CHAPTER - V (part 2)

day in and day out, this was much less stressful. "What should the infantry do?"

"Stand by for rapid response. Let's wait for HQ to do something. If there's no further contact, I'll give instructions."

"Understood."

Just as he clicked the receiver back into place, his subordinate's warning filled the command post.

"It's the enemy; one of the ships is rushing us!" "Fire to interdict!"

But the moment he shouted it, he felt something was off.

Normally, a transport ship or an armed merchant cruiser would never charge right in front of coastal artillery. That was plain suicidal. So if these navy guys were doing it…

"It must be… Stop them! That ship is either going to self-destruct or it's full of troops!"

His subordinates responded promptly to the sudden order and realigned their barrels. Though they fired quickly, several of the shots struck very close. And one of them was perfectly aimed.

"Nice! Direct hit on the enemy ship! That's a show of skill. I see putting you through your paces on the eastern front was worthwhile."

As an artilleryman, Meybert was wholeheartedly proud of his gunners.

But it seemed the heavy armor-piercing rounds had been a mistake. They appeared to have gone straight through the hull, causing surprisingly limited damage.

Before he could even click his tongue in annoyance, the enemy was moving. What should come out of the transport ship but a pack of what seemed like high-speed motorboats? Aggravatingly enough, emerging from behind them was what looked to be a destroyer and a light cruiser headed straight for the coast.

"Look at that—they're definitely the same nationality."

Meybert was already convinced, but with this degree of certainty, perhaps the hesitation the others felt would vanish. As he braced himself to see what would happen, the radio started screaming.

"HQ! HQ! Enemy attack! Mobilize the infantry!" "R-return fire! Return fire!"

"Get the units to their battle stations! The artillery is already fighting!"

"Did they ever get identified?!"

"The duty officer said each unit should…"

"Secure the submarine pen! That's what they're aiming for!" "Protect HQ!"

"Scramble the mages! Hurry!"

Ahhh, damn it. Guess it's total chaos. Meybert nearly got discouraged but managed to just barely clear his thoughts with a firm shake of his head.

He needed the rest of the troops to compose themselves, and quickly; their numerical advantage wouldn't work for them if they were in disarray. All he could do was hope it would happen as soon as possible. There wasn't much he could do on his own.

All he had control over were the artillery in their fixed locations and a small detachment of infantry.

How should I use them?

Probably the most efficient way would be to have them support the others. Picking up the line connecting to Tospan, Meybert rapidly came up with a plan for fighting with their limited numbers.

"Lieutenant Tospan, are you hearing what I'm hearing over the wireless?" "You mean the total chaos about the attack and whatnot?"

"Yeah. Exactly that. It's a mess."

The enemy was so bold; they had the imperial base right where they wanted it. Meybert was forced to admit they were losing the initiative even as they spoke.

"They may be the enemy, but what a bunch of crazy heroes. Not that there's any reason we should let them have their way. We'll send them all to the bottom of the sea."

"Indeed. What should my unit do?"

"I want you to close with the enemy and engage. The garrison is taking their sweet time. If we don't help them out, we're very likely to end up on the back foot, fighting reactively."

"If those are your orders. But taking just my company seems like a challenge, numerically speaking…"

"For better or worse, it's probably not an issue. The enemies seem to consist of a commando unit." He continued bluntly, "If our opponent is a small special ops unit, then setting aside quality for a moment, we won't lose out on quantity. Any troops who aren't our numbskull fellow soldiers getting

toyed with over there should be able to overwhelm them." "Understood, Captain."

It happened just as he was about to say, Thanks, I'm counting on you.

One of the observation post personnel shouted a strained warning. "Detecting mages!"

Meybert whirled around to ask, "From where? The sky?!" "From the ship. Multiple signals detected inside!"

"So they're going to spit them at us here?"

The threat of aerial mages was one anyone from the Lergen Kampfgruppe understood all too well.

They were formed up alongside the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, elites capable of flexible operations. If Meybert hadn't witnessed their feats on the eastern front with his own eyes, they would have been difficult to believe.

Since he was familiar with those heavy hitters, he was intimately familiar with the destructive power of properly deployed mages. He knew that mages could bring more shock and awe to a battlefield than any amateur could imagine.

There were mages sent to support the enemy commando unit. There was no way they were amateurs.

"Lieutenant Tospan, there's an enemy mage unit. Multiple signals from within the ship."

"Marine mages?"

"Leave them to the garrison's mage unit. The scramblers are…okay— there they go!"

The rapid response mages got to work. The companies were evenly matched. Honestly, compared to the aerial mages he was used to seeing, they were awfully sluggish, but…as long as they could ignore the enemy marine mages, the artillery's job didn't change.

"It's so reassuring to have friendly mages in the air, huh, Lieutenant Tospan?"

"I agree. Even just a company or a platoon. There isn't some way to finagle some mage support, is there?"

"…You and I both had it too easy."

"Colonel Degurechaff really was a good boss. Damn!" Tospan grumbled over the line.

Despite his complaints, there was little doubt he was already getting his

infantry into position. As someone who had been baptized alongside him on the eastern front, he trusted the lieutenant on that point. Even while chatting away, he could do a proper job.

Always make sure to do the minimum. That was eastern front–style.

And the eastern front had it all. It was short on everything, but the minimum was there and ready to go. Armored forces, artillery, infantry, mages—they all cooperated organically in combat.

For someone used to that harmonious Kampfgruppe setup, any battle where support was interrupted was to be avoided.

"Leave supporting fire to us. We'll lob some big shells at them."

Shouting to be heard over the gunfire and holding the receiver in one hand, Meybert poked an NCO.

"Hey, change the type of ammo in just one spot! Switch to high explosives!"

"Captain? For the ships, the armor-penetrating rounds are…"

Meybert shook his head in response to the lower-ranking officer's comment and answered him plainly. "We can't stop them all! So we'll drop some high explosives on the ones who make it through as a welcoming gift."

"…But the garrison has facilities nearby." "Like I care!"

The NCO's blank look was unexpected. To Meybert, the outcome was self-evident.

"It's a bit late to worry about whether the facilities get a little damaged or not!"

It'll just mean a headache for the military administrators in charge of this stretch of occupied territory and the base itself. That was their job; the artillery's job was to fire the guns, so he figured fair was fair.

I'll fill out as many pages of paperwork as you want after the fight.

"…The enemies are going to crash!"

"So they mean to barge right in, huh? That thing's too sturdy to be a destroyer."

The cluster of incoming enemies didn't even slow down.

They were going so fast that Meybert could practically hear the deep, scraping noise they would make on their approach angle. The boats and pseudo-destroyer zoomed into the port and up, heaving their metal bellies onto the wharf. What happened next proceeded exactly as he had predicted.

Enemy infantry began to scatter, jumping nimbly down. "So it is a commando unit!" Meybert spat in frustration.

Before his eyes, soldier after enemy soldier came ashore, though there weren't many of them. They were impressively quick, and their discipline spoke to a detailed plan and elaborate training.

The Communists boasted powerful momentum when they got going, but these units seemed to have a tenacity that would probably make even the Federation's soldiers shrink away.

"The tank desant on the eastern front was surprising, but the limeys are no slouches. I guess we can call that a destroyer desant?" Stunned, Meybert continued his monologue. "No, sailors call it boarding, I think. Is that what this is?"

But he had figured it was coming. When it came to position defense and having to do so as the result of a split-second decision, he had mastered the subject at Soldim 528. A commando unit with less matériel might than the Federation Army could probably be fried up one way or another by Tospan's infantry company.

"Captain!"

"I know!" Meybert winced and shook his head clear. "This is your invitation to the welcome party for the limeys! Get 'em!"

The moment he gave the order, the guns roared…followed by high explosives bursting right next to the enemy destroyer. It was as close to perfect as you could get without being perfect.

But it wasn't as effective as Meybert hoped. Frankly, they couldn't get a good angle. The walls of the port facilities were in the way. Regardless of how it would go if they were in an open field, in the port there were too many obstacles to catch many out in the open.

On top of that and worst of all, the friendlies and enemies were right up against each other; it was practically a melee. The timing of the shrapnel burst of the high explosive rounds could be unpredictable, so they hesitated to fire without thinking.

"Tch, how annoying. I guess our effectiveness is limited in this terrain."

He had wanted to contribute supporting fire, but it didn't seem like they could be of much help.

"…We can't ignore the enemy forces still out on the water. Maybe we should shoot them first." When he turned his binoculars toward the sea to try

to get a handle on the situation, he emitted a confused grunt. "Ngh?!"

It was a strange sight. Smoke was rising from several enemy ships; it was enough to make him want to rub his eyes. Had someone scored a direct hit? Which unit was it?

Ridiculously, he really did wonder for a moment, but then he noticed that although what they were emitting was smoke, it was a smoke screen.

Ah, right, they were using it before, too. Sometimes they showed up on land, but I guess ships use them, too. Seems like they've got a trick or two up their sleeves.

"Well, shit. Our coastal guns can't do much against smoke screens."

The targets weren't packed close enough together for an area barrage to be truly effective, and it was impossible to land a direct hit with artillery with nothing but dim shadows in the distance to go off.

"I guess we have to prioritize eliminating the commandos for now. As long as the garrison troops pull their weight…"

How's it going over there? Meybert checked in on the radio. At that instant, a hopeless frown clearly appeared on his face.

"Reinforcements! For the commandos?! What are our guys doing?!" "Help! It's the enemy! The enemy is—!"

"Stop! Stop firing! You'll hit our guys!" "They're shooting at us! They're the enemy!" "There's a fire! Quick, put it out!" "Prioritize eliminating the enemy!"

Impenetrable chaos. Or perhaps this was the kind of chaos that directly preceded a rout. Everyone was just screaming whatever came to mind first. Every voice on the channel spoke to the far from orderly situation.

Just as he was wondering what to do, the line connecting him directly to Tospan gave a shrill ring. Good timing.

"Lieutenant Tospan, they're penetrating the defenses. At this rate—" "Captain! It's no good! We won't make it in time!"

"What?! Why not?" His brow was about to furrow—How could you not make it in time?—but he found himself flabbergasted instead.

"We're being fired on! By a friendly position!" "Oh, for fuck's sake!"

Of course it would happen now. Or could it only happen now? These troops with little to no combat experience were truly panicking.

At this point they were probably terrified of anything that moved and just assumed every shadow was an enemy. And he couldn't expect the officers or NCOs to gain control of the situation if they lacked experience as well.

So not only was there mass confusion but he wasn't even sure he would be able to get in contact with anyone.

When they tried to fire at the enemy, they were held back; when they tried to stop the enemy, they were shot at. This sort of thing didn't even enter the imagination on the eastern front.

"Life is just full of surprises."

All he could do was grumble. These damned scarecrows have no idea what they're supposed to be doing!

What exactly do they think war is? There should be an addendum to the rules. Yes, apparently, the manual needs to stipulate that war be taken seriously.

"Lieutenant, concentrate on quieting the friendly position for now. You can't reach them?"

If it were an enemy position, they could deliver smoke or armor-piercing rounds according to their fancy, but their own people were down there. They couldn't shoot to suppress just the enemy.

These idiots!

"We're trying, but semaphores aren't working, and neither are signal lights. They're just— Ahhh, shit!"

"What happened?"

"Enemy reinforcements! More newcomers on the wharf! They're still coming ashore!"

Tospan screamed that more were arriving. It would be impossible to pin the enemy commandos at their beachhead at this rate.

The imperial side was in chaos. Meanwhile, the enemy was in great form. No one wants to fight against infantry who can make calls at the squad level to carry out their mission without officers urging them on.

"But we have an absolute numerical advantage. Calm down, Lieutenant Tospan!"

"…Sorry, sir."

As long as the attacking side couldn't overwhelm the defending side with numbers, the imperial side would have the advantage. Given enough time, the situation would turn in their favor.

Even the enemy had to be aware of that. "There are just a few of them, right?"

"Even with the reinforcements, they have, at best, a battalion. It's not that many bodies."

Receiving Tospan's report, Meybert nodded on the other end of the line. "They're probably a strike team tasked with carrying out some sabotage. They have no intention of taking and holding ground… Sheesh, even just a platoon would be…hmm?"

Meybert found himself at a loss for words and had his brain do a bit of thinking.

Even if their objective was sabotage, they were on a raid. If they attacked the position and failed, they would withdraw. That was how it went on the eastern front.

But this was the sea. In that case, their escape route would be the boats.

Instead of attempting to figure out a way to capture the ships along the wharf, wouldn't it be better to simply destroy them? It's not as if our enemies are the kind of idiots who would leave the key to their code on a boat anyway.

But that was a major gamble.

It takes guts to charge in here with infantry alone. They must be awfully confident about their plan, including whatever extraction they have; otherwise it would just be reckless.

"Are they hiding something? Or maybe… Oh no!" The sudden realization caused him to shout. "Lieutenant Tospan! Turn back right now!"

"What? We don't need to intercept?" He responded a moment too late.

Impatient even to take the moment required to explain, Meybert screamed, "There's no guarantee they're only infantry!"

What a horrible mistake. He had forgotten the possibility of mages. There was no reason the ones flying up over the water were the only mages they had!

When he remembered Soldim 528, it was so obvious!

Use a portion of the mages as bait to catch the enemy's attention. Make them think that's all the mages you have, drawing their wariness in a different direction, and then slam the off-guard fools from the flank when the time is just right.

The very technique that had done so well for them!

"Remember the eastern front! Check that commando group! The colonel would have definitely—!"

Before he could say mixed mages into it, he was interrupted by a report. "We've got mages! Mana signals detected among the enemy commandos!"

Hearing the NCO's warning, Meybert clicked his tongue. Tospan seemed to have grasped the situation at the same time and was emitting a pained groan.

Well, that made sense. His company was most familiar with the kind of threat a composite group of mages and infantry could pose.

"Shit! They really got us!"

"Lieutenant, can you help maintain the defense effort with infantry alone?" "…It'll be tough but not impossible. Oh"—he added some extra details

—"if it's just defending the position, we'll figure something out. It'll be a stopgap solution, but we'll get it done. We'll reset the defensive line now, so hold on."

To put it plainly, this straitlaced guy was bizarrely well served by being familiar with the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion.

Lieutenant Colonel Tanya von Degurechaff called him "an inflexible person who only learns from experience." In other words, Tospan stubbornly trusted in his experience without a trace of doubt or hesitation.

After all, he had seen it on the eastern front.

He had witnessed that crafty aerial mage move, as well as how lethal the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion was. So it was easy for him to arrive at the conclusion that mages were capable of that much.

Of course, it depended on the situation.

But having that idea of how things went was a plus when their opponents were elite Commonwealth marine mages. After all, he'd fought against the Federation orbs.

Position defense against those unbelievably solid defensive shells— surely there could be no better lesson in how to stop mages.

Though the Commonwealth marine mages were nimble, with these conditions and the current balance of power, they could be defeated. Experience is a fountain of courage. Plus, with plenty of ammunition, a position, and pinpoint support from artillery, there was no reason they should be overrun.

Even if the rest of the garrison wasn't much more use than a bunch of scarecrows, as long as the Kampfgruppe he belonged to functioned like it was supposed to, then they would be able to achieve the bare minimum of self-defense. Whether it was delivering a danger-close fire mission with artillery batteries that didn't give a damn about appearances or dealing out concentrated antitank fire to deal with hardened mages, the Salamander Kampfgruppe's technical skills were unmatched.

It was a battle of elites versus elites.

Of course, ultimately it was only the infantry and artillery keeping the Kampfgruppe running while the others were away. Considering that his usual aerial mage support and the armored forces threatening a flanking attack were missing from the lineup, Meybert was actually going into this battle with a handicap.

But time was on the Imperial Army's side—something that rarely ever happened. Even if they got pushed, as long as they didn't break, the enemy would leave of their own accord sooner or later. There was really no reason to panic.

A huge explosion and a shock that shook even the command post. It was definitely a secondary explosion. There is no shortage of flammables at a military port.

These bastards. He shook his head and stood to try to get a handle on the situation, and that was when he caught the NCO's shout.

"They got the submarine bunker!"

When he looked in that direction, he couldn't miss the huge pillar of rising black smoke. The way it was billowing up made it eloquently clear that the bunker had been blown away.

The scene made Meybert snap in spite of himself. "Those morons! A structure like that should be easy to defend, and they couldn't even manage that?!"

Even the new recruits quaking in the trenches—nothing more than temporary fieldworks—and constantly harassed by Federation Army heavy artillery can hold the line! How can you not even protect a bunker that is basically a hunk of concrete against lightly equipped infantry and a few mages?!

What is the garrison even for?!

After venting, he shook his head and realized the signaler was shouting.

"What is it?"

"HQ is ordering us to help the bunker!"

Even when he asked, "What?" his subordinate merely repeated that they were to rescue the bunker.

"These idiots." "Huh?"

"They're aiming so badly that Lieutenant Tospan and his unit are under friendly fire, and now the bunker's been blown up. There are even enemy mages acting like they own the place, so how are we supposed to do anything?"

Orders are absolute, but they can't mobilize reality. Even a great king can't stop the sea. There's a well-known tale about that.

"Give me the phone." "Captain?"

"Just give it here. Hurry up." "Y-yes, sir."

Snatching the receiver, Meybert took one huge breath. "Command, this is Captain Meybert. Can you hear me?"

"We finally connected? Captain, as you can see, the submarine bunker has been hit. Send assistance immediately!" It was none other than Paul's distressed voice on the line.

"We don't have enough people. But if HQ insists, then we'll have to do something. Would you like the artillery to blow up friend and foe alike?"

"What?"

Meybert repeated slowly for the uncomprehending lieutenant colonel. "Please give us orders to fire on the ruins of the bunker. I'm confident that we can blow up everyone there, friend and foe alike."

"Is this more of your bullshit?"

"I believe that's the only useful thing we're capable of at the moment, sir.

If you'd like us to fire, just give us a call. I'll be going for now."

Meybert slammed the receiver down, heaving another massive sigh. He knew he would have to brace himself, but this was something else.

He figured it was best that they prepare.

"Ordering all units, including the artillery batteries, to make ready for close-quarters combat. Assume the worst case. Brace yourselves in case they charge in here. Hurry up and check your equipment while there's still time.

Remember how it went at Soldim 528."

Time is on our side? Really? At this rate, we're doomed.

-x-X-x-

THE SAME DAY, THE ROYAL CAPITAL OF ILDOA, GOODWILL TOUR GROUP

Metaphorically rocking aboard the incredibly smooth train ride, we soon arrive in the Ildoan capital. The extravagance of the city's central station is proof that it has been renovated to impart a powerful first impression of the country as a whole.

As one might expect from the capital, it neither pales nor outshines the Empire's in terms of scale. In a simple comparison, the Empire's Berun probably has the slightest edge when it comes to distribution capability. Given the forced mobilization of matériel during the war, I'm not sure whether "the slightest edge" can be considered a win or not.

Going a step further, the only real claim to victory we can make is volume. We have no choice but to shut our eyes to the other crucial elements of aesthetics and ambiance.

After all, Berun has been shrouded in the veil of total war for ages now. The oppressive atmosphere seeps out from the very bones of the city, making even the air feel gloomy.

Compared to Ildoa, where the people can naively sing the praises of peacetime prosperity, the contrast is all too recognizable. I can only think the abnormal atmosphere in the imperial capital is different down to the oxygen entering your lungs.

"…It's so cheerful even at the station," Tanya murmurs to Colonel Calandro.

"What?"

"There aren't any bereaved families grieving at the station. It's a fine thing."

Tanya's somewhat sarcastic grumble is met with a slight shrug from

Calandro. As far as I can tell, he understood the implication but has chosen to let it pass without comment. Another privilege of a country not participating in the war.

"We've arrived in the Ildoan capital. Allow me to welcome you again, Colonel Degurechaff. Rest easy, my friend from our allied nation, I'm going to give you a proper reception."

"It's an honor."

Though it's all formality, courtesy should be answered with courtesy.

Even in the army, you can't escape society and the etiquette that goes hand in hand with it. The second is especially important in the peaceful Kingdom of Ildoa.

I'm jealous of how much surplus energy they have to devote to manners and custom. Is being escorted from the train by a pseudo–honor guard that guides them politely to the station building just another part of that formality?

The military police acting as honor guards seem less concerned with etiquette than with keeping them isolated from their surroundings.

Aha. Tanya smiles to herself. Apparently Ildoa doesn't want imperial soldiers walking freely in such a public place.

Surely that's the only explanation of their necessary friendship. Tanya even expects, after they are politely guided to the building, when she is told they're having a meeting between point people, to have some impossible problem shoved off on her.

I'm sure stupid national honor and diplomatic interests will cause me to suffer in the field as usual.

But on this point, Ildoans, for better or worse and by virtue of being a "neutral country," have much more experience being considerate than people in the Empire.

Waiting for her in the room Calandro leads her to is a single military bureaucrat wearing the insignia of a major.

As Tanya watches, wondering what Ildoa could possibly want, the major hands over an envelope, exchanges a few brief words with Calandro, and promptly takes their leave. The colonel and Tanya are the only ones who remain in the room.

And Calandro hands over the envelope without opening it. "This is for you."

"Thank you. But what is it?" I ask the question after accepting the

envelope. A bundle of papers?

"Your visas and a bit of identification. Also a blank check from the Ildoan General Staff. With regards from General Gassman, who will be covering the sum with classified funding." At this point, he chuckles a bit. "Of course, a check with no upper limit at all wouldn't do, so it's really just a small amount, but… Well, it's from the Ildoan Army. It will be accepted anywhere in Ildoan territory. I'm sure you won't have any trouble getting anyone to accept it."

"Allow me to take a look."

When she opens the envelope—Aha!—there's a neatly written check stamped with the Ildoan Army's seal. It's the type of thing you would never see on the battlefield.

It's also physical evidence eloquently proving that Calandro managed to seize entertainment funds from Gassman.

There's no way Tanya could be this generous. Even if she haggled with Colonel Lergen and Lieutenant Colonel Uger, the best she would be able to come up with is maybe a few extra potatoes or bullets.

Damn it. We'd look pathetic!

"An offering from your allies wishing you a comfortable trip. We couldn't let you be limited by travel expenses." Calandro smiles perkily.

"My deepest gratitude for your kindness. I think the select company from my Kampfgruppe are quite big eaters and drinkers. That won't be an issue, will it?"

Tanya's remark implies that they may charge it to the limit, but Calandro's expression doesn't falter in the slightest.

In other words, there's no danger of them coming up short or feeling anxious about the amount.

A juicy budget. What an enviable situation! I'm slightly worried my jealousy will turn me into a monster.

"No, don't hold back; eat and drink all Ildoa has to offer. The high-octane gasoline is for the airplanes, though, so as long as you aren't guzzling that, there's no problem at all."

"Huh? G-gasoline?"

"I'm surprised, Colonel. You didn't get the details from Colonel Lergen?" I try to gloss over it with a comical face, but this was probably a real blunder. Does Ildoa and the Empire have some sort of secret agreement about

high-octane gasoline?

"I've heard Ildoa is strictly neutral. And actually, it's because we were unable to rely on your 'kindness' when attempting to retrieve the Southern Continent Expeditionary Corps that I'm here now."

"No hard feelings, please, Colonel. I understand why you want to say things like that, but we're a neutral country. There's a limit to what we can do."

Calandro, frowning as he delivers his rejoinder, is an Ildoan soldier to the last, defending his country. And it's true that it's difficult, legally, for a neutral country to allow passage for soldiers of a belligerent state.

I would like to honor the law. I can even understand why the Ildoans resort to a fair-weather plan that prioritizes their own interests. But when that indecisive foreign policy directly causes me suffering, it's a different story. So yes, Tanya will deign to be unpleasant for at least a moment.

"A limit? I think there's also a limit to alliances between nations." "Indeed there is."

"Huh?"

"…In any case, Ildoa is your country's ally. You could even call us your dear allies if you like."

Tanya stares at him, but he continues shaking his head.

"Strict neutrality during a war is ultimately just a diplomatic idiom." "Colonel, up to this very moment…I was under the impression that Ildoa

was respecting the restrictions of neutrality fair and square."

"Ha." Calandro promptly denies it. "We're not so heartless that we'd abandon our friends. We're doing everything we can—as my slip of the tongue indicated just a moment ago."

"About the high-octane gasoline or whatnot for airplanes?"

"Yes… We're lending you a hand in the western air war with aviation fuel and so on."

"Are you saying a drop of oil is worth a drop of blood?"

Ages ago, that phrase was chanted in a country in the Far East. Though rather than use it as a wartime slogan to enlighten the people, it should definitely have been debated as a general strategy.

Finding that unexpected juxtaposition humorous, Tanya laughs. It's a very similar phrase, although the usage is entirely different. Calandro is claiming that they've fulfilled their duty as an ally by providing support from the rear.

Isn't that rich?

"Colonel, with all due respect…is it even possible to be an ally without shedding some blood?"

Sure, why not? I personally think it's perfectly acceptable. But this weathercock attitude makes for a dishonest business associate.

Going a step further, I'd like to shake him up with a bit of recon-in-force to gauge his reactions.

"Instead of shedding blood with us and lining up our dead side by side, you shed oil! Is that what you consider the act of a sincere ally in Ildoa?"

"In the sense of supporting your country's war effort, we certainly do. I suppose I shouldn't talk about such things with my limited perspective."

No reaction. Or rather, he stands on awfully solid ideological footing. In the end, Calandro makes for a fine cog in an evil organization.

…I suppose I should lay down my sword. Any more than this would just be a waste of time.

"You'll have to excuse me, as I'm neither a diplomat nor a politician. I'm a mere field officer who has nothing to do with high-level strategy."

"You're saying a little girl who was awarded the Silver Wings Assault Badge is a mere lieutenant colonel?" Nodding at his own words, Calandro continues with an air of disbelief. "Could a mad dog with no knowledge of strategy become a staff officer at such a tender age?!" With an amused grin on his face, he claps his hands. "And on top of that, you were one of the Twelve Knights at war college. You don't know strategy? Please, no need for the false humility. I read your graduation thesis—you were born for strategy."

He's smiling, all except for the eyes fixed on Tanya. That steady stare has the air of a lucid observer.

"This is a great opportunity, Lieutenant. We should get to know each other better."

He wants Tanya to stop acting like a frontline commander and simply speak her mind. Even though he must be deceiving her about his true nature, too.

"Colonel Calandro, I didn't realize you knew so much about the Empire's military."

Nodding in admiration, I don't let the chance to retort slip by. "When we met on the eastern front, I heard you were an alpine expert, but…you really are well-informed." The implication that he's no mere field officer is very

plain. "Such good ears you have."

"Of course. We're allies, aren't we?" Calandro replies calmly, as tough to ruffle as expected.

So just any allied officer knows the Empire's process for cultivating staff officers and has read war college theses that are practically military secrets?!

He's an intelligence agent or, at the very least, a bureaucrat at the center of the army involved in drafting foreign policy.

In other words, he's a very shady guy. And probably also the very embodiment of dedication to geopolitical expediency. No wonder the General Staff assigned him to the Lergen Kampfgruppe when he visited as a military observer.

"Should I thank you for your interest in the Empire?" "Offering the gratitude of a mere field officer?"

"Considering our working relationship as a colonel with roots in the alpine troops and me, a mere field officer, it doesn't seem inappropriate…"

They exchange glances in silence.

On one side is Tanya, questioning Ildoa's lack of candidness. On the other is Calandro, requesting that she consider their respective circumstances.

Both are bound by their public personas, and they can't even have a conversation without embellishing a word here or there.

This truly embodies the beautifully paradoxical relationship that Ildoa and the Empire share. A wonderful friendship. It's much more civilized than pointing guns at each other and waiting for the first chance to shoot. You could even call it eminently peaceful.

"…Well, then. I guess I have the disadvantage when it comes to sounding each other out."

Calandro raises his hands in mock surrender. If he were really capitulating, things wouldn't go like this. His casual demeanor paradoxically requires a great deal of composure. And in reality…he probably isn't ruffled at all.

This is Ildoa. His home turf. As a foreigner, Tanya has nothing to gain here by making a scene.

"Colonel, I'm happy to take advantage of your kindness." Smiling, polite, and friendly—even if only on the surface. Tanya opens up a bit. After all, has this not been a heartwarming conversation? "I'm not great at sounding people

out, either. Perhaps my feelings gushed out, given that I'm a frontline soldier. If I've said anything that is liable to be misinterpreted in an inappropriate way, please forgive me."

"…Colonel, you could definitely be a diplomat. How about it? You could quit being a soldier and switch careers."

"You think I'm cut out to be one?"

Tanya's question contains a glimmer of hope, but Calandro winces.

"I don't mean it as an insult. I know that your specialty is military affairs. Perhaps my joking went too far, but I truly do respect you as a colleague. So"—he smiles bitterly—"please enjoy this little trip. I do mean that."

"Are you sure? I was convinced that from the average Ildoan's perspective, we're a bunch of unwelcome guests."

He responds to her question with a vague expression. A vague expression resembling his wince of a moment ago. He must want to say that he can't state outright how put out they are. Regardless of how Ildoa feels, he must be conveying his personal goodwill by swallowing that comment.

Calandro is a tricky one. Someone serving their leader is always coming from a mix of private- and public-facing perspectives; it's hard to tell what's genuine and what's fabricated.

"A neutral state is enemy to no one. Conversely, we have no reason to deny imperial soldiers on leave a sightseeing visit."

"And your warm reception of the submarine crew goodwill docking in your harbor is an extension of that?"

"Of course. We've long been proponents of the good neighbor policy. You can't have too many friends."

Under the circumstances, he continues responding to everything with a good-natured expression. That must be his own personal policy. Ildoa is an opportunistic bat flitting from side to side, but that also means it's a rational weather vane nation.

We can't trust them, but we can have faith in their abilities and judgment.

And I suppose we can trust Calandro as a contact.

With those feelings on her mind, she gratefully accepts the envelope containing the promised check and visas.

"All right, Colonel. We'll enjoy the trip you have planned for us. And I'm sure the dinner will go well."

-x-X-x-

JULY 21, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, ILDOAN TERRITORY, INTERNATIONAL TRAIN FIRST-CLASS CABIN

The peaceful hours flew by. The stay in Ildoa was marked by much carousing. The few days spent in the capital were over in the blink of an eye. It was only natural that some of my subordinates wanted to stay longer. Personally, I would have been happy to remain partying in Ildoa till the end of the war.

Sadly, their host made it perfectly clear that a long stay was not an option. With their thorough and ongoing weather vane diplomacy, the presence of imperial troops was a serious liability.

On leave, mingling with the locals, sightseeing—the excuse didn't matter. Having imperial soldiers wandering around where diplomats from countries at war with the Empire could see them was simply too much of an inconvenience.

The eagerness to get rid of the imperials as quickly as possible lurked beneath their smiles, even as they prepared a courtesy red carpet.

It essentially was, We've kindly arranged you a train home, so get out.

We were practically handed the tickets by force. Was it a minimal show of goodwill or the Empire asserting its presence? The entire staff of the imperial embassy came to see us off…but they were in the enviable position of getting to remain in Ildoa. Even though I privately was jealous, I couldn't very well let it show on my face as a fully fledged member of society. At the very least, I had to force a smile when it came time to say good-bye before boarding the train.

And now I'm back in a compartment on this weirdly smooth-running train. It's nauseatingly well-appointed. And the Ildoans are so good at hospitality that they managed to learn our tastes during our stay.

Thanks to which, we have the unbelievable pleasure of choosing our breakfast according to our preferences. That's how Tanya is able to enjoy nibbling on the light morning meal of her choice alongside her adjutant.

Fresh fruit, simple cold dishes, plus proper bread and meat. Honestly, what luxury.

"…Conspicuous consumption. And a plush passenger train home. But why do the servers come directly to our room…? They don't want us talking in the dining car?"

"Well, it is an international train. We're probably not the only ones on board."

"So we're not quite quarantined, but I guess they have their own concerns to consider. Well, even so, it's great to have tasty ham and cheese, eh, Lieutenant?"

The white bread makes me happy, too, but ham and cheese provide the quality protein we so often lack.

"Colonel, have some coffee, too."

"Ohhh, thanks. I appreciate it, Lieutenant Serebryakov."

The fragrance of the black liquid she pours… There's no mistaking it. "…It really is nice to get the genuine article."

"I haven't smelled this in a while." Two cups. A duet of singing aromas.

Good coffee brewed from proper beans served in proper porcelain, which has gotten progressively harder and harder to find. This is true civilization.

"I take it you didn't get a chance to stock up?" "No, I did a little. It was on Ildoa's tab, after all."

My adjutant laughs that she didn't hold back—how very shrewd of her. I'm sure the stack of invoices that ran right up to the limit are hitting Colonel Calandro's desk right about now.

Should we extend a word of gratitude to Ildoa's apparently famous military administrator, General Igor Gassman? That said, it's another country's confidential funds. If Tanya wasn't personally involved, we probably never would've even heard about it at all.

"I only wish our General Staff were as generous," Tanya comments casually with a wince. "Though a look at the General Staff dining room is enough to know that dream isn't coming true."

Awful food served on splendid dishes.

No matter how nice the plates are, if you have no choice what you can use to fill them, it's all for naught. The Empire has a tendency to focus on form and forget function.

"It's wonderful to have such a colorful meal."

"Yes, Ildoa is really—how to say? Full of color."

Picking at the gorgeous spread of hors d'oeuvres laid out on the compartment's table along with Serebryakov, Tanya smiles faintly. "You can tell from just a single meal."

"It really is beautiful."

"Truly, which is why it's so painful." The words are out before she realizes.

"Is something wrong? Do you feel sick?"

In response to her adjutant's worried look, Tanya winces in self- deprecation. "No, just being silly. Perhaps I've been poisoned, too."

"Colonel?"

It's an unusual comment. At least, it's going a bit further than a patriotic soldier like I normally would. But I've also realized something.

Maybe it's the coffee making my tongue loose. "No, I just mean…Ildoa is too calm. I can't relax." "…I see."

"Yes…"

This is no good. In order to clear the strangely heavy atmosphere, I try to change topics.

"By the way, Lieutenant, do you prefer red or white wine?" "Huh? Wine, ma'am?"

Tanya nods at her blank-faced adjutant.

During her stay in Ildoa, she nailed down some gift bottles to use as ammo—all on Ildoa's dime, of course. Between the bottles she acquired for giving others upon their return and the gifts she received from Calandro, Tanya has a nice little collection going.

Sadly, though the wine is quality stuff…and since Tanya can't have any, they don't serve much purpose besides as ammo for social situations. Of course, I'm happy to stock up on whatever type of ammo I can get her hands on.

"Bottles I received in Ildoa. Why don't you go open some up with Weiss and the crew?"

"Are you sure?!"

"No matter how lucky I was to get them, I can't drink. I don't mind if you guys enjoy them."

I rummage in my bags to pull out the bottles and tell Serebryakov she can

take whatever she wants. "Thank you, Colonel!"

"Make sure to tell Major Weiss I'm grateful for his support." "Will do! I'll be going, then!"

My adjutant looks truly happy as she trots off. Judging from her contented expression, she must be completely relaxed.

She's one excellent adjutant.

"We've been together for a while, but…"

I really have no idea what motivates her in most cases.

Is it just the multifaceted nature of humans? Perhaps it was a mistake to neglect sociology and socialization. If I get the chance, maybe I should study some for future reference.

"School, huh?"

This trip to Ildoa has been my first time in the rear in a while. A sleepy peace hanging in the air. Culture, civilization, and a true peace I had nearly forgotten.

On the flip side, the Empire is still very much at war.

In preparation for total war, every last resource is being driven into a trial of fire and steel before being reduced to ashes. The peaceful rear? No matter how far in the rear it is, the imperial capital is still the capital of the Empire

—that is, the capital of a state at war. Why wouldn't the atmosphere be grim? "Haaah." A sigh escapes naturally.

"…The paradigms are just too different." A grumble from the heart.

"The front lines, the rear, a peaceful mediator. I realize they're all different. But living in the same world, can we converse despite the different paradigms?"

When was it that the importance of deconstruction began to be pointed out in earnest for the first time? We need to consider whether our ways of thinking are being needlessly restricted by the language we use.

I, Tanya von Degurechaff, wish for peace. The Imperial Army General Staff and Supreme Command probably also wish for peace. Ildoa, the client states of the Empire, and the peoples of the world surely wish for peace in equal measure. With the exception of a minority of psychopaths or people morbidly devoted to preserving warrior culture, I doubt anyone is out there raving about how great making war is. Peace is unconditionally valuable.

Even the most unjust peace is surely preferable to the most just war.

At least for someone forced to serve in the military. A massive waste of resources is always folly.

Tanya is a rock when it comes to her staunch anti-Commie stance, but even she won't unconditionally support a war against them.

If Commies can be cleaned up using some peaceful method that doesn't involve open warfare, then I fully believe that the more civilized method is preferable.

War in general just has an abysmal cost-performance ratio.

As long as we're not in the ideal situation of being able to wipe out the Commies with strategic nukes in a one-sided salvo because we have them and they don't, then going on the offensive is out of the question. Thinking things like this makes my coffee taste bitter. This isn't a very good way to enjoy coffee.

What a waste. I decide to change gears.

Looking over the foreign newspapers I acquired in Ildoa, it's fun to compare how each country's censors work. The Federation and Commonwealth papers are especially fun. It cracks me up to see that they aren't any better than the Empire's.

The only downside is that it makes me feel like I'm going to lose my mind.

Still, that's where the three meals Ildoa has prepared come in. Lunch is some nice meat, and dinner is a well-made stew.

Tanya even gets to enjoy dinner in the empty dining car with her unit. Well, it is annoying that Weiss comes to wheedle for another bottle of wine… but I can overlook it if it means my war-nut battalion can learn to appreciate some of the finer attractions of civilization. Still, it strikes me that my vice commander's alcohol habit is worse than I first thought.

After that pleasant meal, since a bed—and quite a nice one for a sleeping car—has been prepared, all that's left is to jump into it.

Then, after laying down comfortably and falling into a tranquil sleep, Tanya is awoken by a slight swaying.

The vibrations had been much quieter before I went to sleep. The sounds and swaying have increased so much that for a moment, I wonder what's going on.

For a split second, alarm bells go off in my head. But then I realize, this

uncomfortable swaying is actually just the familiar tracks that crisscross the Empire.

"So you can tell when you've passed the border just by how well the rails are maintained…"

Ildoa was a quiet, colorful, foreign world of abundance.

The Empire is gray. It has wrung out as much geopolitical power as it can, but it's already beginning to fray in subtle ways that are nonetheless impossible to ignore.

"It really forces you to take a hard look at poverty."

One of the great powers. This country with the momentum of the rising sun billed itself as the crown of the world.

And now look at it.

By the time Tanya comes of age, everything will be backward. The Empire poured all its energy into the army and is now self-destructing because it can't even maintain it.

It aggravates me that I can totally see us losing the war. "I hate this so much."

I especially dislike the fact that evacuation seems like it will become necessary at some point in the near future.

"…I guess I'll go back to sleep." The road to the capital is still long. Better sleep while I have the chance. It should blow my stress away, too.