CHAPTER - III

SEPTEMBER 26, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE IMPERIAL GENERAL STAFF OFFICE

Bad news never arrives alone. When one rears its ugly face, there's always more to follow. The worst part is that often no one realizes something is bad news until much, much later.

The military command for the Empire had reached a point where their brains were no longer functioning properly. From the west, the airwaves carried a terrible report that would sap the color from every commander's face.

At first, they thought it was good news…

The report stated that the Imperial submarine fleet, under the orders to sink any and all vessels that entered its territory, had sunk an unknown enemy ship that displaced over ten thousand tons off the western coast.

A triumphant naval official brought the report. To their surprise, the army officials would go to bed commending the navy's prowess that night.

The following morning, however, they would be greeted by a distraught naval official carrying a ticking political time bomb into the General Staff Office. As luck would have it, there was a good chance that the sunken ship belonged to a neutral nation.

What's more, it was likely to have been a ship from the increasingly not- so-neutral Unified States: ample cause for the official's distress permeating throughout the General Staff Office. We've gone and done it now, they collectively thought.

The Unified States all but ignored the restricted submarine zone created by the Empire. Not only had they brazenly sent a cargo ship right through the

blockade, but it was also accompanied by a passenger ship, as if it was a matter of national pride. As of late, the Unified States had been sending war materiel on their merchant ships to the Commonwealth with their flag lit up at night.

Despite all this, they had the gall to tout neutrality in the public sphere. They even maintained an embassy within the Empire. Therefore, it was a diplomatic problem if they attacked them.

It would be more than enough of a reason for the nation to join the war on the opposing side. Having said that, if they let them through the blockade, there was no point in having one.

It was only natural for the officers to realize that they'd screwed up.

The officers were practically moaning as they immediately alerted their superiors and the Foreign Office to the predicament while simultaneously confirming the details of the encounter. In the course of doing so, however, they would uncover multiple other issues.

It was a huge problem that…they had sunken a ship. What was far worse, however, was everything surrounding the attack. The series of events that led up to this political mess were surprisingly straightforward.

In fact, it was a flawless attack. There wasn't a single mistake to be found in the captain's report or the records on the submarine. The target had fulfilled every condition to qualify for attack according to Imperial Navy protocol.

It started when the enemy approached. The Imperial fleet had picked up a high-speed vessel moving through its restricted area with its lights turned off. Both the captain and the officers on duty confirmed that there were no Empire-approved markings on the ship that suggested it was a vessel for repatriating citizens or transporting the sick.

On top of this, the ship was moving quickly at twenty knots, and with several more signals from what seemed to be escorting destroyers, the vessel was suspected of containing crucial shipments of arms and supplies. By the time the Imperial Navy submarine made contact with the ship, it was in the perfect position for an attack.

Taking into consideration the ship's speed and what they thought were destroyers flanking it, the captain decided to take his chances and incapacitate it in one attack. He fired every torpedo he had—a huge risk, considering all the escorts. But the torpedoes struck home.

The moment they reached their target, the veteran captain saw a ball of fire, unlike anything he'd ever seen, well up in the distance. It was more than enough to convince any naval officer they'd sunk their target. An exemplary attack, sinking an important enemy ship fully laden with arms. In the after- action reports, it was even confirmed that the explosion could be heard throughout the entire submarine.

Even the officers who did everything by the book couldn't find any issue with the records. Either way, with this being the first time in a long while that a submarine had sunk such an obviously vital ship, it was only natural for all of the admiralty to cheer when they received word. The life of a submariner is spent in a small world. No one needed to check to understand the personality of the captain who had sunk the ship. He was a veteran among veterans who would turn in a modest report, void of any exaggeration, sharing only the details he personally confirmed.

This much they could tell from the report, with all details being disclaimed as estimates. Had it been a newer captain, the report would have sounded more like We sunk an enemy ship! Excited by his first victory after a long period of boredom, he would rouse his crew before sending some sailors to confirm the kill. Naturally, naval intelligence participated in the inspection as well.

Meanwhile, the Decryption Department for the Imperial Navy had intercepted some…ominous messages. Multiple analysts conferred and agreed that the code they'd been receiving nonstop since the attack included words that meant civilian ship and Unified States. When the decryption team handed their findings to the analysts, they would share a groan before reworking the inspection list. This was how the good news took a dark turn.

Whatever they thought at first, the sunken ship was a passenger-cargo ship of a neutral nation. Many of the passengers had likely died, which posed an obvious diplomatic problem of massive proportions—a problem that would be a source of stress for more than a couple departments.

With their stomachs already aching due to their meager rations, this extra stress almost made them want to cry out in pain. As they endured this fresh wave of agony to assess the situation, they soon discovered that Unified States ships had started a policy of turning off their lights at night.

It was around this time that a naval officer appeared with a second report that would only exacerbate any ulcers: They had sunk another ship. All

personnel involved in the submarine attacks were thrown into disarray. The news of the first attack was already enough to bring the department to its knees, and the second political firebomb truly tested the limits of their mental fortitude.

Of course, they had brought this upon themselves. Sinking ships uninvolved in the war was just one of the risks of raiding the merchant navy. Nevertheless, the attack couldn't have come at a worse time. Their headaches were only growing more numerous and more painful.

There seemed to be no salvation for them. Had God forsaken them? Or was this the devil's doing? It didn't matter; the naval officers cursed both heaven and hell, and the General Staff officer who received the report would soon be doing the same.

"They've sunk a Unified States passenger-cargo ship. Two of them! As if one wasn't enough, they sunk a second the next morning!"

An irritated General Rudersdorf slammed his fists against his desk, which made the navy cadet who brought him the report look like he was about to swoon.

The Empire was sinking any ships that passed through its no-sailing zone. No amount of caution would've stopped them from eventually sinking a Unified States ship.

It was precarious enough when Unified States citizens died when they were passengers on foreign vessels, but…for the Empire to sink a Unified ship and cause the death of countless civilians?

Lieutenant Colonel Uger, who was standing in Rudersdorf's adjutant's stead, voiced the general's concerns.

"I'm sure the people of the Unified States will be up in arms about this." "It's far worse than that," Rudersdorf said as he shook his head. "There's more bad news coming from Counselor Conrad's end."

"From the Foreign Office? Are our enemies making a diplomatic move?"

Not quite following his superior, Lieutenant Colonel Uger would soon learn that there are some things you can never predict.

"No, it isn't about our enemies." "What?"

"This is still a secret, but our Foreign Office is wary that the Unified States may join the war, and has sent a telegram to one of our embassies in the New World outlining a contingency plan."

It was an ally who was finally making their move. However, upon hearing this, Lieutenant Colonel Uger failed to immediately understand the problem.

"…I'm sorry, sir, but is this not sensible on their part? It sounds to me like we should be happy the Foreign Office is finally trying to do their job."

"Colonel Uger, you're so naive."

General Rudersdorf sounded a bit envious as he let his soldiers fall and grumbled at his subordinate. Had it not been work hours, he probably would've taken the bottle of whiskey out of his desk and helped himself to a glass. Instead, he took out a report he'd received just moments earlier.

"Read this."

With a blank look on his face, Lieutenant Colonel Uger took the documents and began flipping through them. The color drained from his face as he made his way through the report.

"This is summarizing a plan to encircle the Unified States…? Drafted by…the Foreign Office?! W-wait, you mean to tell me they telegraphed this?!"

The first thing that caught him off guard was the sheer carelessness. A telegraphed correspondence could easily be intercepted. For an important matter like this, they should have used a trusted officer to hand-deliver it. Even considering the distance, nothing more than the objective should be sent over telegraph. The finer details should've been left to be communicated in person.

Why on earth would they ever telegraph anything that laid everything out?

Uger couldn't wrap his mind around how out of touch the diplomats were. "Did Counselor Conrad do anything about this? Certainly he recognized

that this was a problem. I can't imagine he'd let a mistake as egregious as this slip by him."

"Evidently, he did pick up on this and tried to stop it."

There was chagrin in his voice. General Rudersdorf shared his disdain for his country's diplomats with a sigh.

"…This was an official Foreign Office decision. The counselor is but a lone diplomat, and it appears that most of his peers have failed to keep up with the times."

He'd warned them. Lectured them. Held their hands through everything they needed to know.

And still, this is what happened.

The despair born from his futile efforts visibly weighed down on his shoulders. Did the Empire really need to depend on this kind of organization to find a diplomatic solution? Was it their only choice?

Knowing there was nothing he could do on this front, Rudersdorf felt a sense of despair welling up inside of him. This wasn't the first time he felt this despair. It was a daily sensation in the imperial capital, and it was also the nature of the work he had shoved onto Zettour. Just a glimpse of what that man had to regularly deal with was enough for him to realize how incredible his friend was, and why he was trying to find a new job for him.

Unaware of General Rudersdorf's innermost thoughts, Lieutenant Colonel Uger was more concerned with the nonsensical actions taken by the Imperial Foreign Office.

"So what do we do if the enemy deciphers our message…?"

General Rudersdorf was worried about the same exact thing. Their ciphers were all they could rely on, but Lieutenant General Romel was insistent on how unreliable they could be. Of course, there was still no guarantee that he was right. It was military policy to hand-deliver important messages as important as this, but that wasn't always practical during times of war. That said, not all hope was lost.

General Rudersdorf would point out his last thread of hope with a wry chuckle.

"The army and the Foreign Office use different ciphers, Lieutenant Colonel."

"Telecommunications may not be my specialty, but that hardly sounds reassuring."

He was right. It was merely something to be hopeful about. Rudersdorf recognized this as soon as he uttered it.

He surely didn't believe that the ciphers used by the Foreign Office were superior to that of the army, but on the off chance they were, he would be the first one to storm the Foreign Office and demand they let the army use them.

"I know the army shouldn't have to worry about diplomacy, but I wonder if the Foreign Office realizes what they're doing. This could trigger a massive international incident."

"It is as you say. Our ciphers are not without their flaws. There is a good chance that somebody has decrypted the message."

"I see," the former railway worker said. He never imagined he'd have to

poke around in diplomatic affairs. He took the chance to share his thoughts on the Foreign Office's potentially leaked policies.

"We've basically handed the Unified States the propaganda they need to join the war on a silver platter. It definitely doesn't help that we've already sunk two of their ships… It makes me want to ask those in charge at the Foreign Office what they think they're doing."

The tired general shook his head.

"Sinking their ships will be more than enough to seal the deal for the Unified States. Anything the Foreign Office does is just a little extra sugar on top for them."

The ships sent by the Unified States were bringing supplies to the Commonwealth under the flag of neutrality. As if this wasn't an issue in itself, the fact that there were civilians on the ship meant that sinking them would cast the Empire in the most villainous of lights.

There was only one solution.

They would need to implement a stricter border inspection policy. The Empire needed to make sure that everything that happened on its borders was completely legal and aboveboard. Though…the navy's strategy to interdict commercial shipping hinged on submarine warfare. Without a presence above the water, they couldn't conduct any real inspections.

"I suppose our current strategy of raiding enemy shipping comes with too much risk."

As Lieutenant Colonel Uger said this, he showed a bit of a perplexed expression.

"What's with that look, Colonel? Do you have something else you want to say?"

"Yes," the lieutenant colonel said with a resolute look. "What if we halted all submarine attacks on merchant vessels?"

It was a bold opinion. Though, it would be laughed off outright by General Rudersdorf.

"You think we should stop our raids entirely? Preposterous."

"I just don't see how we can realistically prevent this from happening again. There will always be Unified States ships in the mix. I suggest reconsidering our current strategy."

"What if that's exactly what the enemy wants us to do? The difference between our recovery speeds is already far too great. If we allow them to

move their resources at will, what do you think will happen? The answer should be obvious. Ending our raids would only empower our enemies in the west."

The Commonwealth was a maritime superpower. The Empire needed to frustrate their shipping to keep them from bringing their true power to bear.

"Logistics is my area of expertise."

Lieutenant Colonel Uger knew the importance of good distribution channels. Despite this, he couldn't ignore his anxiety about what he felt was to come.

"Our raids no longer pose much of a threat where it matters. Most of their resources travel in convoys that we can't touch."

"Go on."

"I think we should reevaluate whether the returns of our strategy justify the costs." Lieutenant Colonel Uger offered his opinion as a logistics expert. General Rudersdorf would show that he realized that in this regard, he was nothing more than a skilled amateur.

He quietly nodded before mumbling.

"The situation is still developing. I should probably talk to Zettour about this…"

-x-X-x-

SEPTEMBER 28, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE INTELLIGENCE HQ FOR THE COMMONWEALTH

Working as a Commonwealth Intelligence agent presented a perfect opportunity to appreciate the nation's proud traditions, starting with the language. General Habergram, the beloved leader of this fine institution, made sure that every agent was blessed with the opportunity to bask in the nasty sort of irony he so enjoyed using. The polite gentlemen who made up his staff would respond to his venom with their own Albion chap parlance while observing every bit of decorum. Those unfamiliar with this ecosystem and who thought of the agents as a crude bunch were either inexperienced, irremediable dullards, or simple sourpusses.

Reality was always bitter. Though they appeared to be a happy-go-lucky

bunch, the intelligence community always wore a scowl on the inside, clenching their fists as they clenched their lips around their tobacco. The laughs were necessary; they kept their hearts from being crushed by the harshness of reality. Alcohol was what kept them going, but without the laughs to sober them up, their precious intelligence would surely wither away.

This delicate balance was necessary for them to continue facing their unpleasant reality. The Commonwealth Intelligence HQ staff marched into work with the same stiff smiles they plastered on their faces day after day.

Under the same cloudy skies, they greeted the usual mage standing watch. The more perceptive of the lot would quickly realize that the security was studying them much closer that day. Was it something to do with the war? Or perhaps a sudden change in events?

Those who picked up on this slight difference would question it as they walked through the halls of the building…before being caught off guard by what they saw next. The group of calm, cool, and collected gentlemen would trip over themselves—that is, if they could even believe what they saw with their own two eyes.

For strutting down the hallway, with a skip in his step and a smile on his face, Mr. John could be seen excitedly fixing his tie as he approached the general's door. He gave an affectionate glance at the folder he held before knocking firmly on the door. He even let himself in!

This was the intelligence agency. Classified information was meant to be kept secret, and yet there was nothing inconspicuous about the sight they'd all witnessed. Everybody knew what this meant.

That said, from Mr. John's perspective, he felt their reactions were justified. After all, his presence there meant reassuring news had arrived.

Mr. John entered the office and, with his baritone voice, shared the good word with his boss.

"General, I have two instances of interesting news." "Oh? Two, you say?"

General Habergram smiled broadly at the pleasant, unexpected visit as Mr. John—also smiling—began to share his news. Good news always came with easy work.

"The first is from an old friend of ours."

"Have the nitwits in the Empire given us another gift?"

They both smiled.

Mr. John delved into the contents of the gift.

"But of course. We intercepted a message intended for an Imperial embassy. My people finally managed to decipher it. Take a look for yourself. I think you'll find it to be both fascinating and stimulating."

Holding out his magic intel, Mr. John couldn't help but chuckle at the utterly shocking discovery.

"This is almost hard to believe. I should probably apologize for looking down on the Imperial Foreign Office all these years. I always knew they lacked discretion…but to think they could be this bad makes me feel like they are a bunch of comedic geniuses."

"Cut to the chase."

"The enemy diplomatic corps has made a grave error. They're panicking

—they're falling apart."

It was fine for the diplomats to create a contingency plan in case the Unified States joined the war…but to actively broadcast the details of their subversive plan over the airwaves certainly wasn't a wise move. The message wasn't something that could be overlooked. As General Habergram made his way down the page, he slowly matched Mr. John's smile.

"So not only did they sink a civilian ship, but instead of apologizing, the Empire is planning their defense?"

"I feel sorry for a country that doesn't know how to conduct proper diplomacy. But I never expected them to use the embassy of all places in their little conspiracy! They telegraphed absolutely everything! Did they think the rest of the world wasn't listening?! Those imbeciles."

Their plans were now out in the open, and just as one would expect from an Empire office, there was even a detailed plan outlined within their message. It included a bulleted list of things that needed to be done in case of the outbreak of war. Hell, the Commonwealth couldn't replicate this level of idiocy if they tried. With a broad grin, Mr. John continued his cutting assessment.

"The sinister plan those evil Imperialists are scheming up should be clear as day. I doubt our gents could come close to fabricating a telegraph this perfect for creating anti-Imperial sentiment in neutral countries even if we wanted to."

Mr. John could only laugh. His boss, on the other hand, was not without

his suspicions.

"This is indeed the best gift we could ask for, assuming it's real."

When things seemed too good to be true, they often were. General Habergram would make his suspicions clear to Mr. John.

"What if this is a trap?"

"What kind of trap could it be?"

"They could try to pin this on us and say it's a fake. Or perhaps they're testing our ability to decipher their telegraphs? What are the chances the Imperial Foreign Office isn't as stupid as we think they are?"

An irritated Habergram tapped his finger on his desk as he asked these questions. He spoke from a place of grand conspiracy. This was a healthy way to view the world for an intelligence agent at war.

Mr. John would share his expertise on the subject.

"While I can't be sure for myself, the information in that folder has been collected from multiple departments, including Mr. Kim's and Mr. Jackson's. Just read the additional notes attached in the file."

"I thought you would explain it to me."

"Unfortunately, there are too many raw details derived from primary sources for even me to read it. It's above my jurisdiction."

Sometimes in intelligence agencies, there were internal barriers set in place. Though this could be inconvenient at times, it was commonplace for a messenger to carry files they knew nothing about.

Curiosity kills the cat, after all. No matter how much said cat was adored within the Intelligence HQ. Any satirist or intelligence agent bold enough to take a peek for themselves would become very familiar with a dose of poison or a knife in the back before long. Which was exactly why Mr. John properly looked away as his favorite boss used a letter opener to unseal the documents. As ridiculous as this may have seemed, the rules were the rules. Being the veteran he was, Mr. John made sure to obey them to the letter. However, this firm discipline of his ever so slightly wavered when his boss began clapping his hands as he burst out laughing at the report.

"Ha-ha, HA-HA-HA-HA! This is rich! Superb!"

His boss, who spent his days with a seemingly permanent scowl on his face, cried out in joy. So much so that it made Mr. Johnson question whether or not he should call a doctor.

"Mr. Johnson, you need to read this."

With a bit of chagrin, Mr. John took the document from his boss and scanned through it. The thin paper was a list. It was an order for an array of different items. This alone was nothing special. But the fact that it was an order telegraphed by the Imperial Foreign Office? This painted an entirely different picture for any specialist who read it.

"Is this an order placed by the Imperial diplomats? As far as I can tell, it seems they're finally about to try their hand at espionage. Do they intend on having their agents double as case officers? I'd certainly advise against that. I must ask…how did we get this information?"

"Their embassy is a loyal customer of our close friends. We sell them mundane products at compellingly low prices, which we make up for by gathering information here and there."

Hearing that the Commonwealth had surrounded the Imperial Embassy with fake businesses was enough for Mr. John to infer the rest. The Commonwealth Intelligence Agency likely supplied the embassy with all its daily necessities at prices that couldn't be ignored. This wasn't a particularly clever trick during a war. It was a part of the order of operations for an organization that ran on gathering enemy information. That said, the list itself also wasn't something that could be passed around the embassy; it was far too top secret. Thus, one had to question the legitimacy of these movements.

"The diplomats are rushing to buy all these items to prepare for something because they were ordered to. While I can't deny the chance they may be aware of our espionage, these are diplomats we're dealing with, not career spies. They don't even know the difference between agents and case officers, so it's quick work for us."

"So you believe they are simply following orders."

"Yes, I do. Now, there's something else we need to talk about. You know too much."

For the Commonwealth Intelligence Agency, Mr. Johnson was an ace who could act as both an agent and a case officer, and the knowledge he had crammed into his mind was far too valuable. It would be a problem if the Empire ever got their hands on him. This is when Mr. John realized that there was a reason he had been shown the top-secret document, and he was about to find out. It seemed like it would be difficult for him to leave the office moving forward…

"Are you finally going to give me a desk?"

"That's right."

Were they going to make him a case officer?

Oh. Mr. John showed a bright expression, but unfortunately for him, the God of Labor would continue to ignore his daily prayers.

"I want you to work with one of our colonies. I need you to ramp up the anti-Imperial sentiment in the neutral countries abroad."

"I believe…a diplomat would be more suited for such a position." "Exactly."

With a smile, General Habergram patted Mr. John on the back and gave him a little reminder about where he worked.

"What were our official titles again?"

"You know, I'm not enjoying getting older. I can hardly recall anything anymore. Let me think…I believe we are intelligence agents for His Royal Majesty."

This quick-witted senior attempted to show his opposition, but any hope of getting out of his transfer was nothing more than a pipe dream, and real life wasn't as kind as dreams.

"Mr. Johnson, you're not that old yet."

His boss flat out rejected his half joke with a sharp look, and a reluctant Mr. John was forced to face reality… The Commonwealth Intelligence Agency operated as a wing of the Foreign Office. In other words, Mr. John and his boss were both civil servants charged with handling their nation's foreign policy.

"We've received word from HQ that Ildoa and the Unified States are both moving toward an armed neutral alliance…"

General Habergram made his firm intent even more clear by referring to the headquarters of the Foreign Office as HQ, as if he really worked there. Left without a choice in the matter, Mr. John could only raise his white flag with dignity.

"I'll go and inspect the situation."

"Excellent! That gets that out of the way. It was nice to receive some good news for once. I believe you said you have one more interesting bit of news to report on?"

His boss, who was as happy as could be, would never expect the news that was saved for second. Mr. John was purposefully vague as he unveiled what would be the actual catch of the day.

"Take a look at this. It seems the enemy deputy director plans on visiting the eastern front on the second of October. He'll be there for three days. We have a detailed itinerary of his flights as well."

His report was met with an immediate response. "Let me see it."

The curious sparkle in his eyes communicated his unspoken question: Can we do it?

Naturally, this question was a matter of catching his prey—a question he didn't need to ask. Their Operations Department was working out things on their end, and they'd already come up with an initial outline for their plan.

"We deciphered this information three hours ago. The staff are already working on a plan of attack. Although it pulls from tactics used in past contingency plans, I believe it should be up to snuff. We also have the analysts verifying the info and calculating our chances of success."

The organization was made up of people who knew what they needed to do. They didn't wait for orders and got straight to work with a full understanding of their duties. Each and every member was efficient. The Commonwealth's far reach was actually a tight-knit network of singular units working seamlessly in unison.

"Good. Give the gents my thanks."

The look of satisfaction about General Habergram would soon fade as he asked his next question.

"And? Is this assassination truly a good thing?"

Mr. John felt like he could physically hear his boss's sharp stare cutting the air as he summed him up with his gaze. Were he a younger agent, this probably would've been cause for a chill or two to run down his spine, but Mr. John was able to give his opinion without hesitation.

"This is my personal opinion…but I believe it may be worth the risk." "And why's that?"

"We have info on the plane, its route, and even the team that will be pulling guard duty. It isn't often we can get intel this precise. The biggest risk lies in the fact that they plan on having the Devil of the Rhine fly with him as a part of his escort."

"Not her again."

Yes, her. Mr. John painfully agreed with his boss's sentiment. The security detail was not to be taken lightly if she was going to be there.

The Devil of the Rhine. She was the Named they feared the most—a true devil who devoured the François Republic on the Rhine front, tormented the Federation in the east, and made quick work of even their own nation's marine mages. With her at his side, General Rudersdorf could move with impunity on the eastern front. He was using their nation's best hunting hound as a powerful guard dog. As extravagant as that seemed, she was undeniably one of the best escorts. As the Devil would make short work of any typical encounter, approaching carelessly was out of the question. Most fleets would be sent to the bottom of the ocean if they stumbled into her by accident.

"I can't deny that her presence is the biggest risk and obstacle involved with any proposed assassination."

"The Empire has been at war long enough to know when and where they need to protect their important personnel… I suppose they perform enough decapitation strikes to know how to defend against them."

The two men cleared their minds to focus on the sole threat that could foil their assassination attempts: the Devil of the Rhine. Knowing that they would discuss this topic, Mr. John had come prepared with a plan of his own.

"If we're going to take out the Devil of the Rhine, we'd need an entire brigade of prewar elites to even have a chance. I don't have the heart to send newer recruits up against such a monster. Of course, if our target is a plane, then it's a different story."

"Are you suggesting we down their plane and take out the target that way?"

Mr. John smiled and nodded at his boss's question.

"It may be more realistic to simply ignore their escorts by sending in our own mixed assault team of aircraft and aerial mages.

The Devil of the Rhine was the leader of the Empire's most elite task force. Numbers didn't mean much against those dogs of war, who mauled their way through any amount of soldiers thrown at them. Nevertheless, these elites were also at the mercy of physics. Even if defeating them wasn't a realistic option, their package was a different story. There were many myths about heroes outwitting powerful beasts of legend, and there certainly wasn't any point in trying to out-monster these monsters.

"If it is a battle of wits, the odds should be in our favor. That's a fact," he concluded.

It was never good for an honest intelligence agent to mistake their hopes

for fact. The same went for self-flattery. Whether he was conscious of this or not, selectively reporting the data his boss wanted to hear would only lead to unrealistic expectations. This was why Mr. John always tried to stick to the middle of the road like the excellent agent he was.

"The fact of the matter is, the general is going all out for his guard detail. My own instincts tell me that this is the real deal. That said, I can't deny that I may just be excited about what a big catch this would be."

"I agree with you regarding that last point."

General Habergram flashed a grin before shaking his head and crossing his arms. He remained silent as he wrapped his lips around a cigar before lighting it, almost like he wanted to hide his grin.

Mr. John took this as a hint to join his superior for a smoke. He lit some soldier's tobacco. As an agent working out in the field, it was important that he wasn't picky.

He let out a few puffs of smoke before his superior caved and offered him one of his cigars, which he graciously accepted.

It had a mellow taste to it. It made him jealous. It was hard to come upon goods as fine as this with the Imperial submarines hounding shipping.

"May I bother you for a second cigar?"

Mr. John wanted to enjoy this rare chance for a proper smoke, but sadly, his superior shook his head to signify their little break was over.

"Mr. Johnson, let's try to stay on topic."

Being one of His Majesty's most excellent agents, Mr. John was complicit. Though, he did take the opportunity to pick a few cigars out of the box for later, drawing a stern scowl from his boss.

"I quite like the plan the gents have come up with for this one, but we need a guarantee that it will work."

"What we have is strong evidence."

Continue, his boss said with his eyes as Mr. John laid out the basis for his claim.

"We intercepted a message from the Empire's eastern headquarters…and it seems like General Zettour is set to be away from the front lines the day of the visit."

"I bet those two dastardly villains are up to something."

General Habergram's concise evaluation was on the mark. This would be a rendezvous between two of the Empire's most troublesome commanders.

The two monsters of the Imperial General Staff were planning to meet in secret. Just thinking about this was enough to send chills down their spines. The two intelligence officers felt a trace of bitterness in the air mix with the lingering scent of their cigars. Talking about it made General Habergram's caution grow even more.

"That Zettour. Just look at all the games he's playing in the east with the Federation. What makes you think we could ever trust a message that involves him?"

This was a genuinely legitimate concern. The telegraph could very easily be a message meant to lure in whoever was listening. General Zettour had shown time and time again that he was the master of deception. The Commonwealth Intelligence Agency knew this better than anyone else. Despite being an Imperial soldier, Zettour played the game just as well as any Commonwealth agent.

"As you say, it's a complicated piece of information to handle."

"I'm beginning to get fed up with all of this. All these damned staff generals… They're in a league of their own."

"Yes, they are. I never expected the Empire, a country of narrow-minded specialists, to ever figure out the rules of the game…"

Though the two agreed on Zettour's prowess, they also knew how to deal with his kind. The more formidable the enemy, the more beneficial it is to eliminate them. This was especially true during wartime. Removal was always an option, but when it came to hunting, targets had to be picked carefully. Bagging the wrong game could have an unintended impact on the ecosystem. The same went for assassinations. As these two men were familiar with aristocratic hunting practices, General Habergram decided to change the topic to what would happen after they killed their target.

"Have our analysts make a list of Imperial officers who could take Rudersdorf's place or may potentially pose even more of a threat?"

"Perhaps you should look no further than General Zettour? I wouldn't want to deal with the Imperial Army with him at the top."

Hearing this remark, General Habergram responded to his agent with utmost confidence.

"I doubt he'll be in a position to do anything. Without General Rudersdorf propping him up from his place in the General Staff, General Zettour has no other backers in the upper echelons of the Empire."

The Commonwealth Intelligence agency knew this. The higher-ups in the Imperial government harbored an extreme dislike for General Zettour. A quick walk in the streets of the Empire was enough to confirm this. It wasn't uncommon to hear members of the Supreme High Command talking openly about how he was one of their worst generals. Though it was impossible to know what the key figures of the army thought…there had to be some truth to the rumors spreading throughout Imperial high society. Through their steady accumulation of human intelligence gathered through Ildoa, they even knew the details of why he was sent away to the east, details General Habergram was fully aware of.

"According to our source in the imperial capital, word is that Zettour was shipped off to the east as an inspection officer."

He was the Empire's Cassandra, prophesizing the bad news they didn't wish to hear. The fact that an officer as capable as him was chased out of central command was good news for the Commonwealth. Mr. John agreed with what General Habergram said, for the most part. That said, he felt obligated to add a few more details as the agent working on this case.

"His transfer has caused our friend Drake quite a bit of trouble. And the Federation, too, I suppose."

"They're both young. We fossils need to give the young pups their share of trouble. Think of it as a form of kindness."

"Ha-ha-ha." The two men shared a devious laugh. These public servants loyal to their country's political interests were the eyes and ears for His Royal Majesty.

Long live the king. They both grinned and finally turned their attention to their precious ally in the east with a shared distaste for Communism.

"It would certainly make things a bit easier for the Commies."

"General Zettour has proven himself to be highly effective in the east. Don't you think it would be a bit too optimistic to hope he'll be replaced on the front lines?"

"That's true," General Habergram said as he chuckled wryly to himself, glancing at the file in his hand. Setting aside General Zettour for the moment, he turned his attention to the picture of a rugged man on the top of the page. General Rudersdorf, their would-be target, was a boulder of a man, but more frightening than his face was his brain. Just how many thousands of lives would be saved if they managed to put a bullet in that brain? Honestly, the

General couldn't care less about the Federation. But his own nation's youth were the Commonwealth's future, and what better reason was there for the gentlemen to get their hands dirty than save as many of them as they could?

He'd come to his conclusion.

"I want you to keep in mind the possibility of Zettour using all of this to propel himself to the top."

"Of course."

General Habergram crossed his legs and pondered as he watched his subordinate leave his office.

"The question is, will this operation be good for the Empire or us? I can only hope…that the scale doesn't tip in their favor."

He prayed, as if appealing to an unseen guardian angel watching over him.

The pride of the Commonwealth Intelligence Agency—its expert analysts— would be on the receiving end of the orders for a new analysis. The analyst would wash down their complaints with who knew how many cups of tea as they shouldered yet another impossible task. This department was supplied with as much tea as it needed to keep its agents caffeinated. The only thing they found as terrifying as the Imperial Army's submarine blockade was the incarnation of evil known as the head of their department, the one who filled them with tea to get them through the impossible hours they were forced to work. With fire in their eyes, the gentlemen did as they always did and projected their disdain for their boss onto their nation's enemies.

Of course, the analysts were still human. No matter how much intellect they had at their disposal, there wasn't much to analyze without proper intel…and none of them ever turned down an invite to the pub. A group of analysts made their way into the bar at the Intelligence Agency and began discussing their new task with some glasses of scotch in hand.

"The chances of General Zettour rising up the ranks from all this? I give it fifty-fifty at best. Though, I must admit that it's hard to confirm any intel on the man…"

"Even the best magician's act is nothing more than some party tricks, though."

The group nodded to each other quietly. How would he react to one of his best friends dying? No matter how capable General Zettour was, there wouldn't be much he could do in the immediate aftermath of such an unpredictable event. And even if he moved quickly, he would still suffer from the usual lag that came with the transfer of information. In other words, he wouldn't have time to act.

"Climbing up from the front lines after such a massive shuffle in the rear would be no small task."

However feared this man was as a monster among monsters, it didn't change the fact that he was but a single person in a large organization. The Commonwealth agents knew better than most just how irrational organizations could be. Being the realists they were, the agents understood how humans operated, which brought them all to the same question: How would the Empire's leaders receive General Zettour?

"Riddle me this: How do you suspect the great and wise general will dramatically force his way onto center stage despite being demoted to his current position?"

"Do you think the Empire's bigwigs would allow it?"

"That's right… General Zettour is hated in the imperial capital. Would they even consider him as a potential candidate in the first place?"

The agents were correct in evaluating this as a serious challenge. Their reasoning was based on repeated analysis of the situation in the Empire. This evaluation was thorough and the embodiment of good, common sense.

The Commonwealth Intelligence Agency had come to a very realistic conclusion. General Rudersdorf and General Zettour were political allies, and even if they removed the former, they couldn't remove the possibility that the latter could respond with alacrity. However, this came with the proviso that General Zettour wouldn't have ground to stand on if the capital were to undergo an extreme change. This was something the intelligence officers were certain of. General Zettour was still just a man. Even for him, there was no escaping the chaos that would ensue after General Rudersdorf's sudden death. He certainly wouldn't be in a position to chase a promotion.

Their grand scheme took out two birds with one stone. It was the perfect plan in that regard. The analyst who delivered the report to General Habergram was astonished by the rhythmic knock he gave on his superior's office door.

I guess I'm in no place to judge Mr. Johnson, he thought to himself as he happily delivered that analysis to his boss. It was the report General Habergram had been waiting for. General Habergram had waited the entire night for his analysts to finish the report. He practically sat on the edge of his seat as he read through the papers. After he finished reviewing everything, he took a deep breath.

"…Are the preparations in place to make this look like an accident?" The analyst answered confidently, with a clear voice.

"Our plan is perfect, sir. There just so happens to be plans for a long- distance bombing raid on Federation territory. If we put ourselves into the mix, we could easily make it look like a random encounter. We should be able to fool the enemy."

It only took a moment for the decision to be made.

"I'll get the prime minister's permission to move forward. Make sure preparations are made on our end as well, gentlemen."

-x-X-x-

OCTOBER 2, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE EASTERN FRONT ARMY HEADQUARTERS

I watch as two giants clash before my very eyes. They're the two Imperial Army General Staff officers: both highly respected specialists in their fields, both with ample accolades and authentic intellect and skills. These two men may very well have a page dedicated to each of them in history books one day. It's hard to describe, however, the sight of the two grown men, both with resolution in their eyes, staring each other down like newly commissioned officers getting into a loud, heated argument.

"That is why we must act now!"

"It's out of the question. You need to look at the state of the war."

General Rudersdorf barks at General Zettour, who promptly denies him. Despite knowing how close these two are, I must say that I wish they would have a conversation where they are this frank with each other without me present.

We're currently at the Army Headquarters on the eastern front. The

facility is heavily guarded, and though none of the guards were stationed near this room…there is no guarantee that someone passing by outside won't hear this intense argument. As such, I can feel a dull ache in my stomach. I look up to find General Rudersdorf shouting at General Zettour once again.

"We can't lose the initiative! The longer we remain idle, the worse our chances will be! We need to attack Ildoa by the spring, at the very latest. We should begin right now, if possible. It's the only way we'll be able to avoid total collapse!"

"We can't do it."

The debate over Plan B is really starting to heat up. With a grim look, General Zettour folds his arms, as if to show his iron will remains steadfast.

"Think of the war front. There is almost nothing to be gained from invading Ildoa. You want us to invade by spring? Cut the crap. It's good to be aware of environmental challenges, but the focus should be on politics, not the season."

Though the details surrounding the issue remain unsettled, they both know the Empire is on the verge of disaster. Both generals share a healthy awareness of the problems the Empire faces in the near future. And yet, it is almost impossible for even two sagacious friends to agree on this issue.

"This isn't something that can be undone, even if you can somehow unite the country on this issue. Our soldiers are what matter most."

"Exactly! I'm worried about the current trend we've been following. This is why we can't let this chance pass us by, even if our plan is rough around the edges! We don't have time to think up a new one!! We need to do this; it's now or never."

"You shouldn't be so quick to gamble, Rudersdorf! Understand that it's your country and its soldiers you're trying to wager here!"

"…Has the eastern front made you soft, Zettour?! The Goddess of Fate will get away if you hesitate! We need to act now if we don't want all that we've sacrificed to be in vain!"

I can tell they're both probably speaking from the heart. Their brutally honest words capture the zeitgeist of these times. If I were a historian or a student from the future, I'm sure I would be frantically recording each and every word with tears in my eyes. However, as an Imperial soldier forced to be present, Tanya has little interest in these talks—it amounts to pearls cast before a swine. The current extreme working conditions only create

insurmountable stress for me.

"I wonder if it's not you who's been away from the battlefield for too long?"

"Is that an insult?"

"Listen… Plans are nothing more than plans, but the war front is ever- changing. Is there any reason to insist on an old plan that no longer holds water?"

General Zettour continues with a tone of annoyance, which is met by General Rudersdorf's intense, unwavering stare. It's not quite the academic lashing I'd expect from a scholar such as the general…but his opponent also isn't the type to sit back and take it quietly.

"I see my decisions through until the end! There's nothing wrong with that!"

In response to General Rudersdorf, an uncharacteristically emotional General Zettour furiously shakes his head.

"We're no longer field officers… We need to think through our strategies carefully."

General Zettour's anger with his friend is sincere. He doesn't try to hide his frustration at the other general's apparent inability to understand the circumstances, but General Rudersdorf responds the same way. He barks back with all his might.

"We cannot be passive when it comes to the war front! Seizing the initiative to control the battlefield should always be our highest priority! Have you forgotten the basic art of war, Zettour?!"

Forced to listen to all this from the sidelines, the confrontation between her two superiors continues to cause Tanya quite the stomachache. Likely due to the increasing intensity of the debate, the usually calm and collected General Zettour finally raises his voice at his friend. Not even the freezing temperatures in the east could cool down this room. So much so that I find myself toying with the idea of maybe opening a window.

"What, are you some animal trained to eat at the sound of a bell?! Do you start salivating when you hear a ring?! Use your damn head! Are all those medals just decorations?! You need to think, man, think! Use your head!"

"You're so full of shit, Zettour! Ever since our days at the military academy, you've always played at theories and hypotheses while you procrastinate without ever actually taking action! What do you think will

become of the Empire's victory if we don't act now?!"

General Zettour opens his eyes wide with disbelief and shakes his head once more.

"Have you gone mad, Rudersdorf?! Face reality! You're acting senile!

What happened to all your discretion?!"

"You've got it backward! You're the one who needs to make a decision! We'll lose our only chance if we don't move now! Do you intend on letting everything we sacrificed go to waste?!"

"You need to think with your mind, not your heart!"

"That's exactly what I'm doing! My rationality is what dictates that now is the time to act! Now is the time to commit! There will be no second chances!"

"It's you who's being backward! Don't be the idiot who throws us into a new fight when there's no need to! Listen to me!" yells General Zettour.

"No, you listen!" General Rudersdorf barks back. Their faces are almost touching as they curse each other out.

They can't see eye to eye on this. It may be a habit of his, but every time General Rudersdorf's arm twitches, it strikes a nerve with Tanya, who is there against her will. I just hope they don't start hitting each other. I've never had to consider what I should do if two superiors get into a brawl. Not in this life or the last. I endure the sudden feeling of vertigo and look away. This is a terrible position to be in. Despite having no power, here I am.

As I'm forced to listen to this anything but constructive discussion, my only means of entertainment is to enjoy the freedom of my thoughts. Though, I'd rather the freedom to up and walk out of the room… Unfortunately, soldiers don't have this luxury. The most I can do is stand straight at attention with my heels planted firmly on the ground and sigh within the confines of my mind.

I understand the importance of this discussion, but why must I be forced to listen? This must be how the UN Security Council officials feel before they're forced to mediate between two countries. Just as I begin to wonder if I should intervene as they don't seem to be getting anywhere, General Rudersdorf slams his fist against the wall, changing the flow of the discussion once more.

After hitting the wall, he falls silent. General Zettour, on the other hand, sighs with closed eyes. Maybe this means they're finally going to calm down.

Or maybe they both realized things were getting a bit too heated. While it does look like they've calmed down a bit…judging from the evident exhaustion in their expressions, it's hard to say they look ready to act rationally again. The two men have been worn down by a frontal assault of emotions.

An indifferent Tanya watches as General Rudersdorf, without saying anything, puts his hand on the doorknob. "I need to get some air," he says before walking out of the room. He leaves behind a lone old man, who remains silent as he looks down with his head in his hands. The general looks utterly defeated.

"Sir?"

"…I need a moment."

The exhaustion audible in his voice, General Zettour could only be described as weary to the bone. He shakes his head, before eventually reverting to his usual scholarly expression. He remains silent, though, as he takes some soldier's tobacco out of his desk and begins quietly chain- smoking cigarettes. It seems he isn't as calm as he looks. Even when engaging the main forces of the Federation Army, he never lost his calm and collected composure. Look at how worn away he seems now. I watch my boss pick up a pen and start tapping it on his desk. No one could ever imagine General Zettour looking up and sending a cloud of smoke to the ceiling like this.

Every once in a while, he closes his eyes and sighs. The cigarette butts having filled his ashtray, he turns to me and starts speaking.

"Do it, Colonel."

Do what? I don't need to ask. He wants me to take care of General Rudersdorf. It's just, at times like these, when a boss shows signs of hesitation, I know how important it is to confirm his orders.

"Are you sure about this?"

"Are you concerned after seeing me act the way I did earlier?"

I can't answer that question. General Zettour knows this, which he makes evident with a wry chuckle before redacting his question.

"You don't need to answer that. I'm prepared to accept the dishonor in my actions. But…that man is still my friend. I truly hoped that he would change my mind about this."

His loneliness can easily be felt in the thin tone with which he speaks. The

General is silent for a moment after that. He rubs his chin, staring off into space before finally uttering:

"It seems there is more humanity left in me than I thought."

"With all due respect, sir, we are all humans. I hope you're not just realizing this now."

"That's funny coming from you, Colonel. Do you consider yourself a human?"

"I'm as human as can be. I'd even go so far as to say it's my destiny as a human to destroy anything that bars my path, whether it be a god or a devil."

I'd sooner believe there is no invisible hand guiding the market before ever recognizing Being X's existence. It's a matter of ego, really, that the self is different from the other. I firmly believe that all humans are free to think whatever they want, but they are also free to dissociate from the delusions of others and retain the right to protect themselves.

"Spoken like a true aerial magic officer. I…may have used up most of the humanity left inside of me."

"Sir?"

"It's nothing. What I need for you to do is to make General Rudersdorf the Imperial Army's next field marshal."

He wants me to assassinate his friend. What makes this scary is the fact that he's never done it before. Were General Zettour the type to hold grudges, we wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place.

Sharing a sense of rationality makes it possible to overcome all hurdles.

It seems there really is nothing more important than trust when it comes to people.

"Understood, sir. I'll be back with the bad news later."

Clack.

Tanya gives a firm salute, clicking her heels together before leaving the room. General Zettour watches me as I go. He absent-mindedly thinks about the confidence with which this tiny officer left the room, about how today, in particular, he could hardly comprehend how powerful she seems. He wonders if his own guilt made him feel this way, or if it was something else. Does he feel bad about making a subordinate do the dirty work? Or maybe these feelings come from calling his friend a bastard before stabbing him in the back.

"Who knows."

He has fought wars for far too long. It's no longer difficult for him to shut away his feelings. For the next short while, he smokes his cheap soldier's tobacco while thinking poorly of himself. Cigarettes have grown on him, though he would've never even considered smoking them before the war. Everything has changed, and it did so a long time ago.

But, even so…

"…I thought I was still myself."

He doesn't even know if his decisions are his anymore. He has always been forced to make his decisions based on the situation, to find the path with the least resistance in the face of the inevitable collapse. Is this really his decision? He swallows a sigh, shakes his head, then turns to his only friend— his cigarettes. It tastes like shit, the soldier's tobacco he'd grown accustomed to. The general can't afford to drink the pain away, at least not yet. He needs to at least wait for the bad news.

"No, that's not right."

He stops himself, and with the driest of grins, he gives a self-deprecating chuckle.

He's going to kill his friend. To him, this is the worst thing he could do, but also what the army needs.

"I can't tell the difference between good and bad news anymore." Duty.

Necessity.

Friendship.

He begins to question which of these are real before shaking away the thought.

"This is total war."

There's no going back. It's all for the fatherland.

No… He sneers. I am despicable to my core. I only need the fatherland's history and future to understand me. I can't ask for anything more.

"I need to stop being so stubborn and let go of this last bit of humanity."

A human can't do what needs to be done. The Reich doesn't need an officer. What the Reich needs is rationality…

It needs a monster.

-x-X-x-

OCTOBER 3, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, THE SKIES ABOVE THE EASTERN FRONT

An additional flight flies over the skies of the eastern front heading to the capital. It carries the shining stars of the General Staff, with General Rudersdorf heading the group of high-ranking officers. The guard detail that follows the plane is also armed to the teeth. A single company handpicked from the elite 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion surrounds the aircraft as they fly. The mages easily follow the cargo plane cruising at a medium speed for the long trip. Considering where the Empire is in the war right now, it's quite the lavish envoy.

Despite the chronic shortage of soldiers in the Imperial Army, dedicating a whole company to protect this precious flight is only permissible due to the importance of the people on board. That being said, it isn't the most robust guard in terms of sheer numbers. The company is made up of no more than twelve mages.

For a general from the General Staff Office, this is quite meager. As the one heading the convoy, I remain anxious and discontent throughout the flight…but as an actor in a conspiracy, I understand how this works to my advantage. For you see, Tanya is about to pull an Akechi Mitsuhide and the plane is her Honnouji. Fewer witnesses is a good thing.

Every now and then, though, the world likes to throw you some curveballs. As Tanya waits for the right moment to strike, a new, unexpected challenge appears.

"Warning, warning! We've spotted enemy bombers!"

I turn and see my adjutant with an intense look in her eyes, and her clear warning brings an abrupt end to my conspiring about our plane's unfortunate accident.

An enemy?

"They appear to be a few kilometers away from the lowland industrial area."

I take out my binoculars to see for myself while my adjutant calls out the contact. It doesn't take long to confirm a group of approaching planes. They're painted in camouflage, but the group is big enough to spot them easily. It's difficult to figure out an exact count, but we can tell at a glance

that there are multiple planes. "It's an enemy formation."

Their bombers stand out, but what's more alarming is the silver plane with four engines on either wing. They've brought the big guns today. I've seen them before in the skies of the western front, but never in the east.

"Where did they come from?"

This is a strange altitude for them to be flying at. "Maybe they took off from a carrier?"

This is the first explanation I can come up with, based on an operation we once conducted. Maybe they are loading large bombers onto carriers like Doolittle…but even then, they could never load this many.

There is no way a ship could support this many aircraft, which naturally leads to the next conclusion.

"It must be a shuttle bombing mission!"

I never considered the possibility of this. Ignoring your enemy's tactical options, no matter how improbable, is never a good thing. Let's see, a bomber could feasibly make a one-way trip through Imperial airspace and reach the Federation. Then they could refuel on the ground before making a return trip to the Commonwealth. There's something that doesn't add up, though. A slight suspicion. I feel an unsettling feeling as I fear for the worst.

"This can't be a coincidence, not with this timing…"

Our convoy is about to clash with an enemy air unit. Though it is a bit to my chagrin…this is actually a good thing for us. At the same time, it's the worst possible thing that could happen. Tanya knows that good coincidences tend to be a lie. Is this a deus ex machina? No, there's no convenient plot points to be found here.

This shouldn't be happening. There is no way this is pure coincidence, which makes this the same as the encounter over the skies above Bougainville. As the security detail, we need to fulfill our duty… To think we would-be assassins would have to play the role of honest protectors. Why did things turn out this way?

We can't do anything suspicious when the enemy is here watching our every move. What a pain in the ass!

"We'll delay our engagement for a full assault. For now, get the package out of here."

"Commander… Doesn't this give us the pretext for forming a tighter

formation around the package…?"

"It would be too obvious. Show some restraint, adjutant." "Is that a problem?"

"We need to be aware of onlookers."

Of course, if there is a way we can pull this off without dirtying our own hands, that would be for the best. We'll guard our aircraft, but if the enemy is willing to do the hard part, then there's no need for us to intervene.

"I never…wanted to have my subordinates do this in the first place… Maybe I'm getting too soft."

"…Thank you."

My adjutant's thanks catches me off guard at first, but I quickly realize that perhaps there are still remnants of humanity—the desire to protect oneself—left in her as well. Or maybe she just feels bad about the friendlies on board the flight who will be sacrificed? Whatever the case may be, I'm glad to see she still has her humanity about her, which brings a smile to my face.

"Enemy mages heading this way!"

Hearing the warning, I turn my attention back to the enemy. "Oh boy, this is no joke."

The tiny specks off in the distance flying toward us from the enemy bombers are not bombs but mages. I'm surprised to see they prepared a plane just for the mages like some sort of glorified tank desant. I see we're not being discreet about this decapitation strike, are we now?

What's frightening is their numbers, though. There's more than a battalion's worth of mages in the sky. Their advantage in numbers will be painful for us, but that's not all—even their formation is tight. Not just in a practiced sort of way. They are moving so quickly that they're comparable to us.

And here I was thinking the world was in dire need of mages. It looks like I was wrong, considering all these rat bastards who decided to show up today!

"Shit. This isn't just some random encounter." "…Yes, there is nothing random about it."

My adjutant looks around before coming close to me and sharing her concerns.

"Do you think it's true there is a spy in our ranks?"

It's good that she's suspicious of leaks, but Tanya would rather be wary of the dangers of properly applied math and logic.

"I can't deny that there may be a mole…but it's more likely our codes."

We really need to do something about our telegrams. The inability to send information easily is truly cumbersome. I can already see all the messages I'll be ordered to deliver after this, but those worries can be saved for later.

"Visha, I need you to send an alert to Air Force Command. We're going to need support."

"Are you sure about this?"

"I can tell how skilled they are from the way they're moving. I imagine they already expect us to call for backup."

The loading bay of the cargo plane wasn't exactly comfortable compared to what General Staff was used to flying on. These planes were designed to carry massive loads of cargo and only cargo. Which meant the general and his entourage were essentially treated like extra-large baggage.

After his intense argument with General Zettour, an exhausted General Rudersdorf sat on the plane with his eyes closed, trying his best to think about other things. Usually, he would use time like this to knock out some paperwork, but…he couldn't bring himself to do it that day.

His opinion was so different than his friend's. They couldn't even see eye to eye on the situation. Even for a man of his fortitude, he felt a deep-seated conflict and pity toward his friend who couldn't understand his perspective.

He would be snapped out of his mental stagnation by the unthinkable. The cargo plane hit some unpleasant turbulence. The moment he picked up on this, his mind quickly kicked into gear.

"What's going on?"

"Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff and her mages are in the middle of intercepting an enemy attack! They're asking we withdraw ASAP and—"

The captain's voice cut off mid-sentence before wavering as he delivered more bad news.

"Emergency message from the 203rd! They've confirmed enemy mages heading our way!"

His voice carried through the cargo bay like a tremor. The passengers

were all quiet. They looked at one another before turning their attention to the head of the General Staff.

"You don't think they're here for…"

The man who found himself with nothing to do during his flight came to a quick conclusion.

"Sir?"

"They may have gotten the drop on us."

"D-do you think you're being targeted by the Commonwealth?!"

The passenger shouted this out, hoping it wasn't the case. Sadly, for most of the people on the cargo plane, they knew this feeling all too well. It was a highly effective tactic, after all.

Decapitation. It was known to be one of the Empire's signature techniques. For the staff officers who made frequent use of this tactic with a relatively high success rate, this was an all-too-familiar sense of uneasiness. They were certain this was an assassination operation planned by the Commonwealth. That is…except for the man who was the target.

"Oh…?"

General Rudersdorf folded his arms and gave a wry smile on the inside. Strangely enough, he hadn't suspected the Commonwealth to be the culprit until it was mentioned.

That's quite strange—almost interesting, he thought with a bittersweet grin as he quietly rubbed his chin. He wondered why he suspected somebody entirely different.

Why was the first person to come to mind, if even for a moment, that idiot Zettour?

With her target's suspicions within the cargo plane unbeknownst to her, Tanya angrily shouts her orders into her radio in response to her fake escort mission turning into an actual escort mission.

"This is Salamander 01! We need you to scramble, now!"

I continue to yell into my radio, but to no avail. Eventually, I get a response from ground control, but it isn't the response I desire.

"This is an emergency! We need aerial support!"

"…This is Reich Control to Salamander 01. Reich Control to Salamander

01. We can't send anyone out! I'm sorry!"

For a moment, I wonder if I'm hearing things. Are they refraining from sending reinforcements in order to ensure the assassination goes smoothly?

It can't be. I quickly quell my suspicion. General Zettour may have significant influence, but there's no way he could ever pull something like this off. For starters, the Empire isn't capable of pulling off a blatant attack of this scale anyway.

I shake my head and then maneuver through the air in order to keep the enemy from getting a clean shot on me while I bark at my radio.

"What the fuck did you say?! This is our Air Defense Identification Zone!! What, are your pilots sitting with their thumbs in their asses?!"

"We are currently intercepting an enemy fleet heading for the imperial capital!"

"What about the second interception unit?! Eastern planes will work!" "We don't have the planes to spare…"

"You must be shitting me! This is a top-level request! This is the General Staff! Confirm the aerial defense priority codes, now!"

I was given the authority from aerial defense command to call for reinforcements for this high-priority package before the mission.

Did they give us the authority to summon nonexistent planes?

"Send us your aerial mages! Anyone who can deploy, we need them…"

Upbeat music began playing throughout the cargo plane, making everyone on board the flight open their eyes in shock. Such a jovial tune would warrant such a reaction for anyone whose lives were on the line. That said, the shock felt by the telecommunications technicians was in a league of its own. The blood drained from their faces, and no effort was made to hide their sheer confusion.

"Are they jamming our radio signals?!" "What's the meaning of this?"

The answer to General Rudersdorf's question was short and simple. "They know our exact frequency!"

It was the frequency used by the General Staff. It shouldn't be this easy for an enemy to find it so quickly, but unable to deny what was happening, all

traces of color drained from the communication officers' faces. They all knew there was no way this was a coincidence. Even if the Creator himself told them it was a coincidence, they wouldn't even pretend to believe him. Despite the immense shock of this stunning realization, the officers could do nothing but watch the fight unfold from their plane seats. They all plastered themselves to the windows to see what was happening, and they didn't like what they saw.

"Th-the enemy mages have broken through the 203rd's guard!"

"That's impossible?! There shouldn't be any mages who can do such a thing…!"

In contrast to his fellow passengers who were in a panic, a calm General Rudersdorf spoke to them while he looked out of the window.

"It's their numbers."

He knew not even the Empire's—maybe even the world's—most elite mages, the 203rd Aerial Mage Battalion, could realistically protect a defenseless cargo plane from an entire battalion.

He'd heard before that speed was where the Empire's mages excelled.

There just wasn't any way for them to keep a plane this slow safe.

"Hmm, they're all skilled mages… It's becoming increasingly difficult to believe this is all a coincidence."

As strange as it was, the more he thought of how much the Commonwealth was putting into this assault, the easier it was for him to accept. Strangely enough, it didn't even make him feel unpleasant in the slightest, despite his life being on the line.

While General Rudersdorf donned a wry grin, the situation quickly worsened. One mage platoon did everything in their power to stem the tide of enemy mages, but they were being pushed away and slowly dispersing. A different platoon tried to take up a position to provide cover fire, but it was untenable due to the enemy's relentless hit-and-run tactics.

"Urgent message from the 203rd! Th-they want us to prepare our parachutes!"

It was the call the officers were waiting for. The men were ready to jump. Each with a parachute in hand, they stood dignified like the Imperial Army staff officers they were. They would run up to the general and urge that he too prepare for their escape.

"The mages are going to collect us wherever we fall! Hurry, General!"

General Rudersdorf sported a broad smile on his face, thinking about how grateful he was to have a staff who didn't think twice about trying to save his life before their own.

Although, he would know why. "General, your parachute…"

He gently shook his head at the young officers desperately trying to hurry him.

"It's too late for us."

A Commonwealth aerial mage had the enemy cargo plane in his fire range. He'd only been told that the plane carried "important cargo." He didn't know what the contents were and he didn't care. What he did know was that it was valuable. That much was certain, because the Intelligence Agency told him so! They'd selected him for this special mission, and he intended on carrying it out.

"I have you now!"

A two-pronged explosion formula manifested around the mage. He knew it was a risky position, but he wanted to blow the plane out of the sky. However, he suddenly felt an ominous sensation cross his skin. Accepting that it would render his own formula ineffective, he followed his instincts and took evasive maneuvers. Immediately after, he felt a massive explosion bloom behind him, penetrating his protective film and hitting his defensive shell. Barely managing to withstand the blast, he saw two mages start flying evasively and wondered if he was in their range.

"Damn it! It's their guard dogs!"

It was a pair of Imperial aerial mages. They charged toward the Commonwealth mage as he veered away. As they closed in on him, they swiftly swiped away the smoke with the flash of their magic blades. It wasn't a move any sane mage would make. He'd expected this, though, as he was warned repeatedly by analysts of the dangers of the security detail.

Those intelligence agents really pull through when you need them, he thought to himself while keeping an eye on his new opponents. As he watched, he noticed how incredible their mobility was.

"They're fast as shit?! Maintain a base of fire! Keep their leader in

check!"

The mages kept their distance as they started casting to return fire.

They peppered their opponents' flight path with disciplined fire, enough to blow ordinary mages out of the sky. These mages, however, easily weaved through their barrage.

"They're too fast!!"

The way the enemy slipped and slid through the air went against everything the mages knew about magical engineering.

"Son of a…!"

The mages felt chills run down their spines. They knew one small mistake was all it would take for their heads to fly. The Commonwealth commander promptly raised the alert level. He surveyed the battlefield and cursed to himself before reaching for the radio.

"Company α—wait, company β too! Scatter the enemy! Find their leader! She's a Named mage! The queen of all Named! That godforsaken Devil of the Rhine!"

What were the guys from intelligence thinking?! The target was far more than troublesome.

"You call this troublesome?! That doesn't even begin to describe what these mages are!! Those damned liars!"

It was a close call.

With the plane in range of the enemy formulas, the Empire's mages had used their own defensive shells to cover the plane at the very last moment.

"The mages are here! It's L-Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff! Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff and her mages are defending the plane!"

As the passengers on the plane cheered, they heard Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff yelling into her radio through the music next to the plane.

"Salamander to Reich Control! Requesting medical on the ground! This is urgent and high priority! Calling all airports…"

Ah, that's right. We aren't safe from harm yet.

"Salamander to Cargo! Get the package out of here! Damn it! They aren't letting up…"

Even the mighty Degurechaff makes idle complaints at times. What an

expected discovery.

Despite the situation, General Rudersdorf was still, strangely enough, finding a way to enjoy himself.

I hope I can tell that idiot Zettour about this some time. "…They say man is overly suspicious of his surroundings." "Sir?"

"No, it's nothing."

He had suspected his friend for no reason. It was embarrassing. If it really was he who was lost and confused, maybe he should've listened to his friend. General Rudersdorf gave a wry grin as he pictured Zettour's old mug.

"They're coming back this way!"

So be it. I'd rather it be only the enemy who wants me dead.

"No, General…"

The crew member couldn't finish his sentence.

He would never speak again. With their mages unable to keep up with the enemy's numbers, a formula found its way to the plane.

The blazing fire he'd see in his final moments was red.

"I underestimated those damned Albion chaps. They're all far more bloodthirsty than I'd ever imagined."

It is one hell of a game of tag we've found ourselves in with the enemy mage troops. If we're being serious here, the moment I figured out this wasn't a random encounter, I shifted gears from self-protection and complicated ambition to the part of actual protector…until even throwing myself in front of the cargo plane wasn't enough to protect it.

Tanya watches as a single burning cargo plane falls from the sky. Just look at how thorough the enemies are with their spells! They set the entire plane on fire, turning it into a fireball before blowing it up.

"There's nobody left for us to save after that."

As we try to get closer to the blast, we are met with a wall of suppressive fire. It's also clever how they have their planes draw near with a clear path to withdraw every now and then. The Commonwealth is thorough with their tactics. It appears they are dead set on giving General Rudersdorf his next two ranks. It's almost funny how overt the attack is, though. I almost want to

laugh out loud. "This is terrible."

"Colonel? In a way…isn't this an ideal way for this mission to play out?" "You have a point there…but it's too perfect. There are parts of this that

are too much for me. Those Commonwealth agents are really on top of their intel."

I'm half astonished and half thankful. With a grumble to the sky about the bizarre three-way standoff this operation had become, I use my Elinium Arms Type 97 Assault Computation Orb's mobility to do the talking and order my troops to accelerate.

Without anything to guard, escaping is our new top priority. Although, being the social animal Tanya is supposed to be, she's hesitant to use the word escape. It's a force of habit, really. As she considers herself an expert communicator, she always makes a point to choose her words wisely.

"We're going to break through them! Time for our revenge match!"

My adjutant, who knows the details of our operation, gives me a side glance, to which Tanya answers with a shrug. Nobody actually expects us to come out on top of this. The attack was a peculiar piece of collaboration between General Zettour and the Commonwealth Intelligence Agency. The fact that their plans never took each other into consideration is what makes it a strange turn of fate.

As for Tanya, who was wrangled into all of this, it would be really nice to have something to show after all of this… Something like a few Commonwealth heads should do. I need something to prove I fulfilled my moral obligations!

"Get ready to…hm?"

The relentless checking fire suddenly dissipates. Wondering what's happening, I look out and see the enemy staging a full withdrawal. We can't chase them even if we want to, as they board the cargo bay of what appears to be a new model of bomber. It isn't something we'd be able to keep up with. We'd pass out from the lack of oxygen before reaching them.

An irritated Tanya shakes her head and makes a new decision. We may as well give them a little parting gift.

"Prepare long-ranged optical formulas!"

At my word, my mages begin casting. While we do manage to get some shots in, the enemy soon escapes beyond our range. Bright glimmers of

debris can be seen falling from the planes as they regroup and fly off into the distance, but I don't have time to lament letting them get away.

This is where the real problems begin. Tanya scowls in midair at the thought of the cumbersome difficulties that await her, and this one looks like a real doozy.

I don't even want to think about all the trouble I'll have to go through after we get back. I hate nothing more than the question of who is at fault, but such is protocol. I fly to the nearest base and requisition a telephone, skipping all the usual pointless procedures. After kicking in the door on the operator, I demand they connect me to the eastern front.

I didn't foresee, though, what would happen next. You see, I'm calling from a military base. Now, considering her priority level, Tanya's call should be processed without delay. However, there is a small yet bothersome misunderstanding in this regard due to this line not being the highly prioritized General Staff line I'm used to using.

I tightly grip the transceiver. It's amazing how much yelling, threats, and coaxing it takes for the operator to connect me to eastern command.

A wall of bureaucracy blocks Tanya from making a simple call. They give me all this formal crap about jurisdiction and me being unreasonable! I guarantee this wall is as tough as a Federation mage's defensive shell. No matter how much I tell them it's an emergency or how much I demand they make haste, the operators move at their own speed. It's almost commendable. I never thought my stress could achieve the levels it does by the time I eventually reach General Zettour. Nothing bothers me more than time wasted. I have to stop several times just to calm myself down! Being the person of culture I am, it pains me to have to make my murderous rage evident with my tone of voice, but I eventually manage to strong-arm my way through the

operators to get to the person I'm looking for.

In a markedly General Zettour fashion, he jumps straight to the point with a poignant question.

"What is it, Colonel? Aren't you on duty?"

"…I'm sorry, General. I need to apologize for what has happened." "Did something go wrong?"

Though this is a military line, we are wary of outside listeners. General Zettour acts nonchalant, but I can hear a heaviness in his tone.

He must be concerned about the outcome of our mission. I try to find the

most straightforward way to convey that it was a success and also an utter failure.

"I…plead for your mercy." "Tell me what happened."

"We've failed to carry out the mission you assigned to us."

There was a reason I chose to say we failed his mission instead of failing to protect our target.

Was the assassination a failure? The blood almost audibly begins to drain from General Zettour's face before Tanya hits him with news even more shocking.

"A Commonwealth long-distance bomber attacked the cargo plane with the General Staff officers on it. I regret to report that we've failed to protect the package."

"Wait, Colonel."

"I believe it is as you suspect… These events prove that it is very likely the enemy has thoroughly cracked our codes."

We did have our suspicions. In any case, the attack showed that the Albion chaps are highly confident in decryption capabilities. Anyone who knows even a little bit about the Cold War or the two world wars knows that cryptography is a massive battlefield of its own, and the boys in the Commonwealth would take on any cipher so long as they were provided scotch to go with their bland food. That's all they do in decryption school.

Those who understand the importance of intelligence tend to be the most tenacious of fellows. I know this from experience in my past life. Considering the recent events in this world, Tanya is already reasonably sure that their codes have been decrypted. After taking the perfect timing of this last attack into consideration? It's safe to assume our codes are responsible. Simple reasoning proves those suspicions. With this powerful new evidence, I believe I'll be able to persuade the Imperial Army and Empire as well.

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