AUGUST 11, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, WESTERN COMMAND CENTER FOR THE IMPERIAL ARMY
To celebrate Lieutenant General Zettour's promotion, Tanya generously gave him an early gift—a nice friendly outing with the Commies on the eastern front. However loathsome it may be, it was a fittingly good day for battle. Almost ironically so.
For the soon-to-be general was far from a kind man. After penetrating enemy lines, his drive into Federation territory was as brilliant as it was destructive. Tanya, however, was nowhere to be seen. Unfortunately, during this key moment of the war, the official was…out of commission.
She had been ordered back to the capital with her adjutant as they were no longer needed in the east. At the end of the day, she was a General Staff officer. The army couldn't borrow her for too long, so she was sent back, just like that.
She was sent back empty-handed as well. The only thing she got out of the excursion were a few more kills to add to her score.
When it came to her job hunt, there wasn't much she could do with these.
I was a part of that operation! You know, the big one! Yeah, that won't get Tanya very far in an interview. She could be lying for all they know. What Tanya really needs is a concrete demonstration of her talents. Running small errands for generals isn't going to cut it. I'm not exactly surprised, but the government-run corporation that is the Imperial Army is as shady a business as they come.
This is but part of a long chain of events that have hindered my plans to get out of here.
I haven't even left the imperial capital, and I'm already fed up with the general sense of overflowing optimism here… It feels even worse after getting back from the eastern front. Despite knowing how fruitless it is to get emotional over things like these, I can't hide my disappointment in my employer's lack of insight into their employee's desires.
"What am I even working for…?"
My desire to serve is beginning to wear thin. I've been pissed off ever since I got back to the homeland.
It doesn't help that Tanya isn't old enough to drink away this stress. On the way to my next mission, I can feel my fatigue beginning to get to me.
To my surprise, I even find myself playing with the totally twisted notion that I'd rather be on the battlefield. Maybe it's my lack of sleep, or it could be that I've been overworking myself.
Either way, I'm clearly approaching my limits. It's moments like these that make me remember how important it is for a person to get the rest they need.
As sad as it may be, what waited for Tanya on the western front…is the type of general who says stuff like, You can get some rest after you die. This is General Romel we're talking about. He himself is the epitome of a hardworking man, making him the worst kind of person to serve under.
Tanya arrives at the western front command post. As per protocol, she makes her way to the command center to report to her superior, only to find that he's away.
To my incredible surprise, everyone from the high-ranking staff officers on down are away on a trip. The official reason is that they're conducting an inspection.
The only officer left behind is a captain who seems to be the general's adjutant. According to him, General Romel and his staff are out in the field observing from a tank and communicating via radio.
So he's out and about checking the front line and his troops on wheels— or I guess it'd technically be on tracks—instead of on foot. It sounds like a loud way to conduct an inspection. However, such activities are completely normal for a newly assigned general.
Visiting the front line directly is quite routine and even encouraged for officers.
"So they've been out on inspection for days now? Must be tough for the field units and officers alike."
Slightly intrigued, I prod the duty officer. Though expected, he answers with his agreement.
"Well, you know how the general can be."
"I learned all about his habit of randomly disappearing down south. Active as always, I see. It certainly keeps his allies on their toes as much as his enemies."
"It's the same deal as always. He blows right past the walls that normally separate the military branches to make his rounds with the navy, army, and air units."
"Oh? You don't say…? How admirable of him."
I nod and thank the officer for handling the formalities before immediately deciding my next course of action.
You see, this is General Romel we're dealing with. I know how he is— he's insufferable. He's also unstoppable, like a runaway freight train.
I know this better than most, since he ran Tanya ragged down south.
The man is brimming with vitality. He's the sort to start a maneuver campaign the moment he hits his new post. He practically personifies diligence and aggression. As a devoted employee myself, I can attest that he's essentially the ideal worker.
In this same light…he hates anything he views as wasteful. My guess is his life revolves around his work.
This normally wouldn't be a problem, but something about hearing a man like this overcoming the walls between military branches leaves a bad taste in my mouth. He's the type of commander who wouldn't hesitate to use necromancy to revive the dead and use them in a fight if he could… This set off more than a few alarms in my mind, not unlike when I'm bathed in radiation from enemy targeting.
Hearing about him approaching the army and navy in particular raises a few flags.
"Why go there?"
The current issue on the western front revolves around air superiority.
I can see the utility of bringing more anti–aircraft artillery to bear, but would something like that require going out of his way to visit other branches of the military? Contacting the army makes some sense, for the most part. General Romel is a lieutenant general for the Imperial Army, after all. It stands to reason that he would have a good amount of contacts there.
But what business did he have with the navy?
It's not as if the relationship between the Imperial Army and Imperial Navy is especially poor—it's actually quite good. That said…it certainly isn't so good that they're liable to go on fun little excursions or the like. It goes without saying that he has contact with the naval armada stationed in the west, so it's fair to assume that they hold meetings on occasion, but…
Such meetings would be regular affairs, would they not? Would a general like Romel attend a meeting when he could just have someone go for him? The answer is—there's no way in hell.
Tanya has a few contacts in Fleet Command. Though less periodic than ideal, we do meet and exchange information, not to mention the occasional formality. These meetings are purely social in essence.
I can't think of a single reason a high-ranking army officer would go there for an inspection of all things. There must be…a deeper reason other than simple communication for what he's doing.
Something is off about this. Could it be related to Plan B?
"…That would explain why he's meeting the army. But why the navy?"
Setting aside its maritime prowess, the navy isn't particularly impressive when it comes to troop strength on land.
First off, foot soldiers are the natural choice for storming the capital. Perhaps military rationale isn't the right way to approach this problem, though. Whatever the contents of this fabled Plan B, it's a product of politics. In this regard, Tanya is nothing more than a pawn in the game, as is General Romel. This begs the question: Would that man willingly and proactively participate in such a plan?
But we're getting off topic. I turn my attention back to the military.
"…So let's say he's away on legitimate business. The question still stands: Why the navy?"
The first possibility that comes to mind is a plan to raid enemy commerce. I've heard that our submarines have put considerable pressure on the Commonwealth in the west. Would this warrant a visit from my commander?
While that's certainly possible, it still doesn't seem like a compelling reason for General Romel to go in person.
Considering the movement of our naval fleet in the west… Ah, none of this makes any sense. I cover my eyes with my hand just as I run out of time. Moments ago, the duty officer who I'd become acquainted with—General
Romel's adjutant—brought Tanya a summons order from the general.
It's a telegram flown in from his mobile command center ordering her to report to his position.
I snatch it away from the man and give it a quick read…or more like a single glance. The paper literally just says, "Come." Nothing more, nothing less.
No room for refusal. Boss's orders. How arrogant.
I get myself ready as I make my way to the location of the mobile command center I've been provided.
I'm ready for the next unreasonable demand to be laid on me. It's funny how unrewarding it is to be correct about these sorts of things.
Tanya arrives on the scene and is welcomed by her boss's smiling face. Or perhaps more aptly described as a devilish grin. I wish it could end here. This is already scary enough.
But alas, it gets even more frightening when he opens his mouth. "I've been waiting for you, Colonel. I have the perfect job for you."
Could this get any worse? Woe to General Romel. I look at the plan laid out before me. It's absolutely terrifying.
The gist of it is a full-scale assault on the Commonwealth—from the sea. My first impression is that I must be seeing things.
An instant later, my hand makes its way to my eyes. I give them a rub because this can't be real. It must be some sort of joke. My brain is racked with a permeating, senseless doubt.
"What do you think, Colonel?"
When the general poses the question, I come to my senses, though my thoughts are still in complete disarray. Put bluntly, this plan is essentially a gamble. One that Tanya can't professionally condone.
Let's start with the most basic of premises. As unfortunate as it may be, we've effectively lost our air superiority. It's taking everything we've got to prevent disaster over the industrial area in the François Low Lands, and the situation there is growing direr by the day.
The Western Army Group that oversees the area is currently on the back foot. The situation is unfavorable, and there's no practical way for us to reach the Commonwealth homeland, where the enemy's base of operations sits. Despite there being no chances for us to destroy, occupy, or incapacitate the Commonwealth, General Romel is proposing a plan that would require
his fellow officer's full compliance.
Does he want to go to their island? From the front?
"It says we'd pose a full-scale attack on the C-Commonwealth… Is this accurate…?"
"That's their base of operations, isn't it? This is basic stuff here."
"The definition of basic depends on the circumstances, sir. Are the orders from the General Staff Office not to fortify our defenses on the western front?"
"That is correct."
Tanya quietly shakes her head.
Fortifying a line's defenses in this context usually means reorganizing its air defenses. I'd assumed the mission I would receive from General Romel involved something like that.
So what is all this …?
This is a leap in logic that almost reminds me of Being X. Has the war finally gotten to General Romel?
To my great misfortune, General Romel is Tanya's superior, and his operations always emphasize aggression.
"Your orders are written right there, Colonel, clear as day."
"In that case, I may need your help. My eyes seem to be acting up." I protest my assignment with a barely permissible rebuttal. There is a hint of angry disbelief in my tone. "This is supposed to be a defensive strategy, right? I seem physically unable to read this correctly. Is it all right for me to call a doctor?"
"Fret not, Colonel. Your eyes do not deceive you. I can guarantee you that the plan you hold in your hands outlines a fine defensive strategy."
"So it's a defensive full-scale assault on the enemy base."
The name of the plan challenges my command of the Empire's language in a way I've never experienced before.
It says we're going to outflank the enemy's Home Fleet, the unmatched naval force that rules the seas, and attack their homeland. Not only is it not defensive but it's also recklessly aggressive.
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The plan is thoroughly and patently insane. But Tanya is a mature member of an organization. Her words need to be chosen carefully.
Taking a moment to think before I speak, I fold my arms and look up at the ceiling.
"I'm not sure what to say…"
Though I've decided to change jobs, it's not like I have an offer lined up or anything. It's important to always keep a foot in the door of your original company until you're ready to move on to your next job. Quitting before your career move is decided is a big no-no. That means I need to fulfill my duty as best I can until my next gig comes along.
"Sir, if you'll allow me to be frank, I can't get behind this. This is beyond the realm of acting within your power. It feels as if you've redefined the terms of the mission."
"It's an aggressively defensive strategy." "Sir… This is a full-scale assault."
"In the military, the best defense is a great offense. An extreme way of putting it is that a spirit of aggression and a hunger for military dominance are more important than the attack itself."
The implicit you should know this already couched into General Romel's comment made it hard for me to refute that.
There is a certain logic to his thinking. The decision of where to apply their power, the appropriate deployment of reserves, and achieving a strategic goal.
It's essentially the same as changing one's job.
Those who are proactive and prudent about creating a better future for themselves are the ones who build strong careers. Thus, the decision to take a big risk isn't always bad.
"Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff, we don't have time to be cordial about this. I don't plan on letting you fail to comprehend this plan. It strikes me as odd that a mage boasting the name White Silver would rather embrace detestable fear over a chance to bleed her enemies. Perhaps your silver has rusted?"
At this point, I almost wish that were the case.
But I can't say that. Tanya needs to be mature about this. As a member of society, I can't raise my voice while objecting if I want to maintain my position.
I let out a deep sigh before staring right at General Romel.
"Heroes know how to wait patiently, sir. Recklessness is not the same as bravery. I also don't want to uncritically consider biding one's time as being feeble in spirit."
"Yes. But one must forge their chance. Am I wrong?" Tanya had no other option than to nod in agreement.
"Of course, I don't mean to say that a certain level of aggression isn't needed to mount a good defense. The issue here is what's at stake!"
"Tactics are a game of all or nothing. We concentrate our forces and point them all at one spot. The same can be said for defensive tactics."
He's right about this, too. Oda Nobunaga is lauded for the revolution he brought about, but his revolutionary military tactics shouldn't be overlooked. His formidable defense literally went down in Japanese history.
As far as I know, even Japanese children know about Oda Nobunaga. A significant event for him was the Battle of Okehazama at Dengakuhazama. But since too many people fail to ever call upon the knowledge they have… they never truly understand what defense actually means.
There aren't many terms as misunderstood as defense is. Defense can include offense at times. Unless you're trying to bide time, a defense that doesn't take care of the enemy's offense is a stringent strategy.
What did the Oda clan do before Imagawa Yoshimoto invaded Owari Province? Did they wait for the attack with a strong defense and bring the battle to their castle?
One only needs to read a Japanese history textbook to learn the answer. The Oda clan went on the defensive by sending their samurai to behead
Imagawa Yoshimoto and then intercepted their invaders. This was how the Oda clan successfully defended their castle.
And what if the shogun Nobunaga had just sat idle in his castle waiting for the enemy to make the first move? His life would've ended with a valiant defense, and his legacy would have been relegated to a footnote in history, only noticed by the odd history buff.
"Sir, I won't deny that aggression is vital to a strong defense. Decapitation strikes and General Zettour's maneuver warfare in the east are both testaments to this fact."
As a skilled field officer, I know how to use taking the initiative and knowledge to get the upper hand defensively all too well.
"So what's the problem? This is an extremely defensive plan."
"It is extremely defensive on a national level. However, I find it hard to call this plan defensive-minded."
There is a limit to everything, and I can't accept General Romel's extremely liberal definition as to what constitutes a good defense.
"This is the equivalent of mixing up a horse for a deer. It should be more than self-evident that it can hardly be called a strategic defense."
"We have a difference in opinions, Colonel. I also can't help but notice that your lack of desire to charge into battle as a field officer…"
Tanya's expression twisted at her superior's absurd comment. For better or for worse, I never dealt with bosses of this caliber in my previous world…though it was a daily occurrence in the exploitative job environment created by times of war. It's precisely why I'm considering getting out of here.
But right now, I need to protect my current position.
"With all due respect, a hunting dog…needs to remain calm until its prey is just within reach."
I straighten my posture and look directly at the general.
"Only a mutt would run around doing what it wants without orders. No matter what happens, that's not an appropriate way for an imperial soldier to conduct themselves."
"Your point being? Let's not get too caught up in metaphors, Colonel." "Your reinterpretation of our mission strays far too much from the
homeland's orders."
General Romel's jovial expression doesn't budge even the slightest bit when I give him my honest opinion. The dignified look in his eyes that urges me to go on couldn't be any worse.
"We could mobilize our boats. Not to intercept but to charge enemy territory! I believe this is more than aggressive enough for where we stand."
An attack on Commonwealth waters. We're effectively going to go right up to the world's maritime superpower and punch them in the face… How could this be considered defensive in any shape or form?
Setting aside the fact that it's insane, it's nothing more than a rash attack. "We're not of the same opinion on this matter. The way I see it is that
getting rid of the enemy is the best defense. Tell me what you think. Considering where we stand on the subject matter, I want to hear what you
have to say."
"Are you really going to assert that an attack behind enemy lines could be considered a defensive strategy?"
My superior quietly nods, forcing me to point out what I thought was obvious from the start.
"No matter how you look at it, this strays a great deal from what we were sent here to do. A coordinated naval strike using both mages and naval infantry…"
"This is well within my discretion as a means of protecting the integrity of the western front."
Does your discretion cover getting into a fistfight with the enemy on their turf in the name of defense?
This man is sick in the head. Even Shimazu, one of Japan's most infamously insane warlords, limited his defensive actions to his sphere of influence.
"…I simply cannot get behind this decision. To call this a defense erases the concept of offense in the first place."
"Colonel, I'm hoping to fundamentally improve our defensive posture in the west. As you know from the other day, there are plenty of circumstances at play here."
"No matter what is fueling this decision of yours, sir, I'm a soldier. Therefore, it's my duty to strive for the best defense possible here in the west."
"White Silver, you sound like a rusty old politician." General Romel shakes his head in disbelief.
"The air in the Federation must be riddled with miasma."
Though he sounds astonished, he speaks the truth. I can attest to this, of course, having just come from the eastern front; things are beyond dismal there.
"The east is a quagmire, full of bodies that will never see a proper burial. The Federation is like a two-headed beast, with one looming head representing Communism and the other nationalism. It's entertaining in a way. I'd like to take you there with me if we ever get the chance."
"Sounds like quite the playground. Unfortunately…I'm getting a bit too old to play in the mud."
"You must be joking! I'll have you know that General Zettour waded his
way through sludge in the east with my company."
"I see—so it's a place where that general can spread his wings. You've given me an idea of how truly terrible a place it must be. I owe you my thanks, Colonel."
Considering what I saw while I was there, I must admit that the east is the worst of all worlds when it comes to battlefields.
It's hard to romanticize what happens there as a clean, ideal version of war. In terms of how harsh an environment it is, it's similar to the southern front, but…other than the intense changes in temperature, that was a relatively easygoing battlefield.
The southern front is unique in its own way. It's a bit strange, considering how things started there, but winning or losing the battles down south isn't considered all that important for determining the outcome of the war on either side. This in turn has resulted in a level of mutual civility born from the relatively low-pressure environment you can find on the southern battlefields.
However…the same can't be said for battles on which the fate of an entire country rests. Countries place their raison d'état in winning these battles, no matter what the cost.
Well, then… General Romel folds his arms and begins to speak.
"Let's cut to the chase, Colonel. My mission for you is similar to what you did while you were spending time in the Federation."
"Sir, these eastern and western fronts are entirely different environments.
With all due respect…" "Wait," he says.
I am about to object but stop when I pick up on his displeased tone. "Cut it out with your 'all due respect' crap. I'm not some bureaucrat."
"…Maybe I've been in the capital for too long. I think that all the red tape is starting to get to me."
"If a line officer such as yourself has problems with that, then the General Staff Office and the bureaucrats are all screwed."
"Ha-ha-ha."
General Romel gives a hearty laugh. Something about what he says causes my expression to twist.
The excesses of bureaucracy run rampant even during a time of unprecedented war. I can feel it affecting even me. Though frightening,
there's something to be said about it. Setting aside Parkinson's bitter law, I never dreamed that the bureaucrats would ever be able to make this much work for themselves.
"Colonel, my plan is based on what I see as a reality. I'd like for you to directly threaten their capital. See? I've learned my lesson."
"You want me to bomb fog city?"
"Don't you think I've done some growing of my own since our time in the south?"
"That's an interesting turn of phrase. Would you mind if I borrow your dictionary so I can brush up on my vocabulary?"
"That's strange to hear you say, White Silver. This is the Empire, and you're an imperial soldier. We're both using the same dictionary obviously. Forget what others think and say what's on your mind in your own words."
This has to be on purpose. He's playing dumb.
This isn't someone I can keep in check by being indirect and nuanced. As cheerful as his demeanor may be, it looks like General Romel learned well during his stint as an Imperial Army staff officer.
Argh. This is why I can't stand General Staff officers who wind up becoming generals.
"On that note, I actually wanted to ask you something, Colonel. How about you share some of your wisdom with me. Is there any other way to fortify the west? Do you have a better plan than this one?"
His tone indicates his doubt in Tanya's ability to give a compelling answer, making it a form of penance given the fact that Tanya cannot refuse. I find myself wondering if the army will ever compensate Tanya for all her work-related stress. Back in the here and now, I entertain a few different ways I could reply to the question before choosing to be a professional as I politely begin to completely deconstruct my superior's supposition.
"I have confidence in myself. What I know, I know well. And speaking from experience, most aerial combat comes down to a battle of efficiency. If we're going to fortify our line, we need to organize our anti–air defenses to make them efficient as possible."
"That would be a good answer if we had the resources for that. But tell me, do they have anything in the textbooks on what to do when you're on the losing side?"
They don't, I wanted to say with a private laugh.
Toxic companies seek out innovative ways to create hype and move up in the market, but the desire to use innovation in such an oblique way speaks volumes for their failing strategy. Innovation isn't something born from having your employees chant stupid slogans. Conversely, freedom and creativity must be utilized to their maximum potential.
As sad as it may be to think about…poor working environments aren't generally conducive to fostering an environment where creativity thrives.
"It's a struggle of life or death for our AA gunners as the enemy pays us nightly visits with their bombers. It would take massive reinforcements to make the current system efficient. That's not something we have access to right now."
This is true, the three words carelessly make their way to the tip of her tongue.
I understand where the general is coming from, but to agree with General Romel would be to agree with this ridiculous gamble he's currently proposing. The saddest part is Tanya has to pretend she wants to be in the vanguard unit that would be tasked with attacking the enemy capital. Tanya loves herself. She wants to take care of herself, from the bottom of her heart.
Born from this deep-seated desire, I try to put forth a new proposal. "There is a way for us to fight with our current numbers. This is
particularly true for my aerial magic battalion. I'm confident we can produce the results of more than the few we have. We're the oldest members of the group. The enemy is nothing more than hatchlings when you compare our flight times."
Aerial mages are hardly optimal for intercepting high-altitude bombers… but they could easily handle a small portion of them. This is especially true for my battalion, which is the strongest of them all.
I intended for this to seem like a competitively aggressive plan, but as one might expect…my superior's expression doesn't even budge.
"Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff, that amounts to nothing more than a painkiller, a palliative measure at best."
"Dulling the pain will buy us the time we need to think of a better plan." "There's some truth to that, but you've made it a habit to procrastinate
when it comes to defense. Biding time will only delay our defeat if there is still no path to victory. We perish either way."
I understand the logic behind what the general hopes to accomplish. It's
similar to what Nobunaga did when he was surrounded. The Oda clan chose to target the weakest links—the Asai and Asakura clans—in the chain that bound him to win his freedom.
This could be considered a textbook example of an aggressive defense that followed the doctrine of interior lines. I'd venture to say, though, that the only reason it made it into textbooks was because it was successful. In most cases, people like to focus on the management when looking at companies that were run into the ground. It's rarely taken into consideration how poorly people in the field are treated while things are falling apart.
As much as I try to quell the doubt inside of me, it continues to grow. "So we need to act for things to change?"
"It's the opposite, Colonel. I don't see how you can't understand this. If we don't act now, it is only prolonging our inevitable death."
While he has a point, the chances of success are still worrying.
Even if Nobunaga proved this could work in theory, what proof is there that General Romel can secure the same success? The answer is there isn't any!
To start off with, there are too many differences between the Empire and the Oda clan. True, the Oda clan was surrounded. Just like the Empire is right now. That's essentially it. That's the only similarity. The Oda clan had something behind those who surrounded them. They had relationships all over Japan with people who were willing to help them.
What about us? Does the Empire also have allies waiting just beyond our hostile neighbors? Nope. Not a single one. I think and think and think, but still can't come up with a single one.
This brings me to my conclusion.
Contributing any more is pointless. More worthless than unpaid overtime. There is absolutely no reason why I should have to suffer the same fate as the Empire, and it's high time I focus on self-preservation.
In other words, it's time to devote my energy to changing my occupation. And what's the most important thing for job hunting…? A shining performance record.
Tanya needs achievements prominently attached to her name. Her reputation within the Imperial Army is beyond stellar, but sadly I know from experience that this won't count for much with any potential employer I'm interested in.
I can say with confidence as an ex–HR representative that people tend to overestimate their own market value. Everyone believes they're an above- average performer.
This phenomenon is known as the Lake Wobegon effect, and—to someone as highly objective as myself—it is an unbelievably fatal mistake to make.
I'm perfectly aware that I am average and that only through hard work and determination have I just barely managed to pull ahead of the pack. I'm always strict with myself to make sure I never get too optimistic about my career prospects, as that could easily throw a massive wrench in my plan to transfer.
This is why I know that even if I have a few accolades to my name, I'm still nothing more than a mere lieutenant colonel for the Empire. Even if I want to defect, who's going to pay any mind to a random mid-level officer?
I could talk all I want about how I was awarded the Silver Wings Assault Badge…but it wouldn't mean much outside of the Empire. I know better than anyone that I can't afford to get full of myself.
I am well aware of the asymmetry in information between any two given companies.
In fact, it's a simple concept. How well is your own company's star employee known at other companies? To make matters direr, this is most definitely not Japan. There's no Internet here, and Tanya is attempting to change her national allegiance, which is quite a bit harder than changing the company you work at.
I definitely don't want to bet everything on how well-known Tanya is in the other countries—that would be a reckless gamble.
"I need an extremely prestigious accolade, or…"
I could potentially leverage being a part of an operation where the Commonwealth could see me pull off something big. I need to get close so that they could see my face. It's hardly what I'd call the perfect market, but this could be a chance to raise my stock value on the international stage.
Let's view it as a PR move. Nothing wrong with doing a little PR to make the world realize how much Tanya's really worth. Her advertisement needs to be strategic. Thus, with a tinge of self-admonition, I quietly speak up.
"To think I would let the direness of the situation get to me this much…" After that wilting comment, I feel a hand pat me on the shoulder. General
Romel is wearing a beaming expression on his face.
I had been worried about how he would react to my pretending to have come around to his way of thinking…but I didn't expect this reaction.
"Now you're getting it, Colonel. Strong results on the battlefield are our only way out of this. That's some splendid insight you have there."
"If there's no other way out of this bind, all I can do is my best."
I quickly recompose myself, and the general starts laughing as if there's been a strange misunderstanding.
"It's a lonely road. Let's walk down it together."
I stare blankly at him. Together? Is he saying he wants to defect as well?
No, that'd be too much of a stretch.
"Sir, do you intend on accompanying me?"
"It's a play on words. I don't think a man of the army can cross the sea." Oh, he's talking about the upcoming mission.
It's just the general's way of wishing Tanya good luck. In that case, I have just the response for him.
"Sir, I am indeed a soldier who belongs to the magic branch of the military, but the war college was also a part of the army. If you're going to treat me like an outsider at times like these…I can't help but feel like a terrible rift has come between us."
"Don't worry, Colonel. You'll always have a seat next to me with your name on it at the army banquets whenever you wish."
Using food as an example made it hard for her to press him any further. What an ordeal this has been. I shake my head in relief as the end of our conversation comes into sight…but, well, you know what they say about assumptions.
Enemies aren't the only ones who can catch you by surprise when you let your guard down. Unfortunately, I failed to foresee that there might still be danger lurking about.
"Oh, Colonel. I almost forgot."
Wait, what? I have a bad feeling about this. My superiors rarely save the best for last.
I'm reflexively on my toes at this point, but the fact that I have no idea what's coming suggests it's already too late.
"What's that, sir?"
I do my best to hide the fear in my heart.
"There's something I need permission for from the homeland."
"Right…"
This sets off an alarm in my head. That ominous feeling is welling up inside. I'll try to sidestep it by adopting a vague tone of voice and expression.
This calls for immediate emergency evasive maneuvers.
Look to the side, steady your breathing, and remain calm. Avoid eye contact as much as possible and speak as little as possible. Now, activate the troubled look, maximum power. Remember, you have no idea what he's talking about—why are we even here…? That little farce buys Tanya a scant few seconds at most.
The enemy is far too powerful.
"You know what I'm getting at. I want you to go get the permission I need."
It goes without saying that I would love it if I didn't understand what he's implying, but there's no way to escape an order this plain… Just my luck. First, General Zettour, now General Romel. It seems like the Empire's high- ranking officers all really know how to work their subordinates to the bone.
Tanya might be an aerial mage, but flying back and forth between the Empire and the far extent of their war fronts is no easy task!
"Sir, considering the importance of the matter, would it not be better for you…?"
"A commander can't leave his post so easily."
Oh, now he's logical. Even the mildest of objections for a principle as obvious as this could have a drastic impact on a soldier's career.
As a senior member of an organization, I have no choice but to swallow my tears. There's no way out of this one.
"Convince higher-ups at the General Staff Office for me. I'm sorry I can't go with you. Let's make this happen together."
"…I'll do what I can, sir. I'll proceed with the utmost secrecy to see to it that the plan makes its way to the battlefield."
What else could she say to the man?
-x-X-x-
AUGUST 14, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, COMMONWEALTH SUBURBS
It was a regular suburban house like any other.
A typical country home for a noble. The house's design, the attached facilities, and the general accommodations suggested a certain level of status and means for the many people who stayed there. It was the perfect place for the military and other officials to use as a temporary residence…or at least, that was how it appeared on the outside.
Everything changed the moment one set foot in the building.
The guards, most of whom were familiar faces, feigned a sense of boredom and unimportance… They were recognizably naval mages. During wartime, they were the type of veterans desired more than anything else on the front lines.
There wasn't much an officer wouldn't do to get their hands on even one of them, and here they were pretending to be foot soldiers.
The only other group that might use elites like these as bodyguards…was the Imperial Guard in the fog city.
But they fit in here as well because this was the headquarters for the Commonwealth's Intelligence Service. And yet, one can only let out a dry chuckle when every time they visit here, a new set of eccentric security protocols have been put into place.
"I must admit, these protocols are prudent."
Decapitation strikes had become commonplace ever since the Rhine campaign. The owner of this establishment knew how troublesome such tactics could be more than most.
Whether hailing from east or west, the head of any intelligence agency was always vigilant. This was a good thing. It was important to be cautious.
…It would've been better, though, if he wasn't the one you had to report to directly.
"The injury that Devil of the Rhine gave me is beginning to hurt. What a pain. I have nothing but bad feelings about this."
They say that scars are like medals, but they can feel more like canaries sometimes. Scars might even give you warnings if you're the type of person who thinks too much.
Sadly for Lieutenant Colonel Drake, he was a social animal. His logical mind wouldn't allow his instincts to take over and up and run no matter what kind of premonition he had.
He briskly walked beside another soldier through the halls.
Well, more like he was led by the soldier. The lack of freedom given to visitors, no matter their rank or status, said everything he needed to know about the building's stringent security.
That said, even if the soldier leading him to his destination was strict… He was not a wall but a boat mage. He was there to bring Drake to where he needed to be. Drake mused that the man was like Charon. Following the soldier closely, he eventually reached the promised gates of hell. There would be no running or hiding now.
He took a deep breath.
He then gave his guide a brief bow as per military etiquette before entering the room, where a man with a domineering expression was waiting.
"Hello, Colonel. It seems your injury is healing well. Now, let's hear your report."
Drake thought briefly about his preferences when it came to people…and how he rarely got along with older chaps who didn't speak much. It was even worse when they were wise enough to understand the gist of things but also short-tempered enough to explode at any excuses he would give. He could already feel a headache coming on.
"Yes, sir. Where shall I start?"
"Let's start with the accidental shooting. What actually happened?"
Their first order of business already had his stomach churning and his head thumping. A strange constricted feeling was coiling up inside him. Though in name only, the incident had been caused by a junior officer under his command. While he didn't have complete authority over her, he still bore some responsibility.
This was unavoidable as someone who served the crown.
Drake handed over his report. It detailed his professional opinion as the person in charge at the time of the incident. He did everything he could to maintain a calm voice as he began to speak.
"Officially, it's been reported as collateral damage that is a by-product of the chaos during the battle, but the reality is a volunteer mage ignored my orders and acted on their own."
"As unfortunate as it may be, collateral damage is a part of war. How bad was it…for the Federation to make such a fuss about it?"
"Regretfully, the formula was too powerful."
Not only did Drake have to offer his mea culpa to the political officers
but also Lieutenant Sue—who caused this whole mess—had a friendly chat with them afterward. It was difficult to comprehend how any of it made sense. In all actuality, Drake was mere seconds away from blowing a fuse right then and there, but…the Federation report Colonel Mikel got his hands on matched their own, so the buck stopped with him.
"I heard…there were Federation field officers who got caught up in the explosion and died. Though unofficial, this is coming from a reliable source of mine."
The scale of the damage was immense, and it came at the worst possible time. Enough to chill his boiling blood in an instant. It was another nasty example of how Lieutenant General Zettour toyed with them on the battlefield. It was a miracle that after everything was said and done, Drake was still in command.
The matter was handed over to the Foreign Office, which bore the brunt of the fallout.
Drake was still wondering deep down inside if there would be any repercussions for him…
"How unfortunate. We can't issue them a formal apology, either… We'll just have our prime minister apologize to the Communists in private. That wraps up that conversation. Good work."
There wasn't a hint of blame or chiding in his final remark. "What?"
"Colonel, I have no interest in meaninglessly reprimanding my subordinates. We're at the mercy of the politicians, and I'm not so incompetent as to push their unreasonable demands onto the men and women in the field. I may be old, but I intend to age with grace and avoid picking up as many bad habits as I have years under my belt."
Drake appreciated his thoughtfulness. As heartless as it may have seemed to an outsider, he almost felt exempt from any responsibility for the matter. Almost… While the incident was officially resolved, he felt like he couldn't let himself go unpunished.
This was the exact reason he had produced his own report, despite knowing it would be disrespectful.
"By the way, why did you go out of your way to attach a withdrawal appeal to your report? I understand you had the authority to access the backgrounds of the multinational volunteer unit, including First Lieutenant
Sue."
Drake was being scolded by the man, and he understood the political nature of his appeal. The ever-so-slight hint of irritation that could be detected in his superior's gaze was awfully frightening.
Nevertheless, Drake felt compelled to speak his mind.
Even if the brass were intent on including a former Entente Alliance army orphan in their ranks, it was his sworn duty as an officer to give his superior an honest report.
"General Habergram, with all due respect, I included it due to my fear of a repeat."
"What? They're only Commies, Colonel. You needn't worry about whatever losses they sustain."
"I'd agree with you if I didn't know the truth. But…as someone who was on the scene when it happened, I can't allow myself to do that."
In the next moment, the uninterested, almost casual demeanor of his superior changed slightly. The head of Intelligence, who had treated Drake like a gentleman of the navy, now looked at him like a soldier.
"Lieutenant Colonel Drake, I may be misunderstanding you, but…" He studied Drake with slow, observant eyes and hit him with a sharp inquisition. "I had always pegged you as a man who hated the Federation."
"Allow me to correct you, sir—I absolutely abhor Communism with every fiber of my being. And to be frank with you, sir, I don't think I could ever come to like the Federation."
For Drake, there was a big difference between the people of the Federation and the ideology of Communism.
This difference was impossible to ignore when he stood alongside them on the battlefield.
He believed that while many of the Federation's people were genuine dyed-in-the-wool Communists, assuming every citizen of the Federation was the same couldn't be considered anything but incredibly shortsighted.
"Most of their military are members of the Federation before they're Communists. They're driven by their nationalism, not Communism. I'd go as far as saying we're in the same line of business considering we're all soldiers."
Drake knew this assertion could very well end his career. He had come prepared for that.
This was the Intelligence branch of the Commonwealth Army, and they despised Communism with unmatched fury. In their eyes, to even reference an ideology as destructive as Communism was grounds to ruin an officer's future.
Despite this, Drake remained steadfast.
"I hate their system, but I question whether or not we should hate their people."
Without responding, his superior reached for a cigar and wedged it between his teeth. There was a viciousness to him for someone who had just declared his desire to be a kind, old man. He held a match as it burned slowly, but Lieutenant Colonel Drake found himself feeling an unintended familiarity with that match.
Standing at attention, Drake waited for his superior to say his first words.
The silence was incredibly uncomfortable.
He found himself indifferent about the ultimate outcome. He just wanted to hear his superior's thoughts on the matter. It almost felt like he was a defendant about to receive their final judgment.
His superior, on the other hand, leisurely smoked his cigar before abruptly placing it on an ashtray and beginning to speak in a blunt tone.
"So you're a humanist. Affection for others is a good thing off the battlefield. However, we're at war, Colonel. Sentimentality like that will get you killed."
"My apologies, General… But I'm not some monster when I step onto the battlefield—even then, I'm still human. This is a matter of having a good conscience. My advice is to remove a handful of members, starting with First Lieutenant Sue."
"Not only do you lack appreciation for being abdicated of blame, but now you deign to give advice? You're more arrogant than I thought. You're killing me here, Colonel."
Though he made a point not to hide his displeasure, his superior was willing to listen to him.
"Fine, let's hear what you have to say. So, Colonel…are you saying this wasn't an accident?"
"When you consider the problems with our positioning during the battle, it could be considered accidental. However, that poor positioning was a result of the enemy deliberately luring the novice members of our multinational
unit. This is what makes it human error."
General Habergram listened to a brief explanation of what happened before raising his old cheeks for a scornful sneer. It was evident that he now understood the enemy had baited them.
His evaluation of the unshapely front line was simple. "…I see. So they pulled one over on us."
"Yes, sir. One can only wonder if the Imperial Army's senior mages all have tails."
"Like devils, you mean. In any case, we have to face reality. Is it difficult to make sure something like this won't happen again?"
In response, Drake simply shook his head shamefully.
"Considering our soldier's backgrounds…I'd say it's impossible."
"How about teaching them not to fall for provocation? Is that too much to ask for?"
"…Sir, I'll do everything in my capability to train them, but this is the Devil of the Rhine we're dealing with here. That mage's deviousness and trickery is second to none."
Lieutenant Colonel Drake let out a sigh to muffle his annoyance. "That damn ghost is the worst sort of human."
Cunning beyond a doubt—and a powerful Named mage to boot. The devil had even earned the new title Rusted Silver, referring to all the blood of the mage's countless victims. Having to fight a foe like that repeatedly on the battlefield was truly concerning.
"The Devil of the Rhine? I've heard that name before." "Yes, it's a cheeky little…"
"Hold on. The Devil of the Rhine… Isn't that the Named mage known for decapitation strikes? They're one and the same?"
The general was intrigued. Drake wasn't sure what had struck a chord within his superior, but he answered the questions.
"I made contact and visual confirmation. If it were just a mana reading, there are ways to fake it, but honestly…there is no mistaking that devil on the battlefield."
Drake was sure of it.
"In fact, we had ourselves a brief cuddle session at extremely close range. The devil stabbed me with an enchanted blade, and I returned the favor with an optical sniping formula and an explosive one."
"Your injury is from your fight with the Named?"
"Correct. Had it not been for the urgent care and magical therapy, I'd either be in early retirement or a body bag right about now."
Returning at all from an encounter with a decapitation specialist could be considered an accomplishment all on its own. It appeared Drake's emotional words now had his superior's full attention.
While the slightly graying general seemed calm, Drake could tell there was something on his mind.
"Yes… I'd like to ask you a bit more about your encounter."
Sharing information about the front lines was one of the reasons he had been called back to the homeland. So, for Lieutenant Colonel Drake, there was nothing out of the ordinary about his superior's interest.
"I find it interesting that the Devil of the Rhine was seen in Federation territory. Start by telling me about what happened in more detail."
He began going into detail about what had happened, as requested. "When my troop saw the Named mage, the ex–Entente Alliance aerial
mages were especially riled up. The same went for those from the Unified States who had run-ins with her before. Their emotional state made it easy for her to provoke them—"
"That's not what I want to hear, Lieutenant Colonel." The general waved his hand as he interrupted.
He shot Drake a look as if to say, You know what I mean, but how was Drake supposed to respond?
As regrettable as it was, Drake rarely found himself in an office, so he had no idea how to interpret General Habergram's mood or tone.
He merely detailed what he was asked to explain… A moment passed before his superior shook his tired head and gave him some more details.
"I'm not asking what you thought about the devil. I want more details about your encounter with the Devil of the Rhine. Is there a chance it may have been a mistake? Tell me what happened during the fight."
"The devil was one of two hostiles initially thought to be an enemy recon flight."
"Have you fought before?"
"We have clashed a few times, but this was the first sighting in a while."
His superior nodded, then shot him a look, demanding he give more details.
"We determined the two mages were conducting a recon-in-force and mobilized our entire unit for battle. Regrettably, the battle ended before we could take them out. The pair managed to down six of ours. If you include the heavily injured, the total losses amount to a full company."
"…All this and there were only two of them?"
Lieutenant Colonel Drake's expression remained unchanged while his superior scowled. Deep down inside, Drake also had qualms regarding the matter.
"It's another case of Lieutenant General Zettour toying with us." "Yes."
Though he concurred with his superior, his clenched fists and intense expression showed how agonizing it was to think about. Even the most well- trained officers are still flesh and blood, still human. They can't make their emotions disappear completely.
"So you believe the trickster and the devil teamed up?"
"Yes, sir, very much so. That's certainly what my sighting suggests. Those bastards are as cunning as ever."
"Really, now. It's an interesting story you have there, but…" "Sir?"
The general shoots him a single glare.
"I find it hard to believe the Devil of the Rhine was actually on the eastern front. Even with your report, I can't be certain. It clashes with the information we have on our side."
"Is there doubt about my visual confirmation? Sir, I…"
"Our latest report shows that the devil and that famous battalion are both in the west."
It sounded like a bad joke. Drake could feel his shoulders slump. This wasn't something he wanted to hear from the intelligence community, especially its head.
"I've only stated what I saw. If you need me to comment on it, all I can say is that there may be errors in your latest information."
Drake had fought in hand-to-hand combat and even sustained an injury. He had come face-to-face with the Devil of the Rhine. It couldn't have been anyone else.
"Colonel, I'm not doubting you."
The general said this, but his eyes told a different story. Drake idly
thought about how eyes could be more honest than words while he politely listened to his superior elaborate.
"At the same time, we're talking about combat. You know how easy it can be to make mistakes in the chaos of a battle. Am I wrong?"
"I can't argue with that, sir. But I'd like you to take into consideration my tenure as an officer and my performance record."
"I believe…what you saw may have been a mirage or an illusion." "Sir, with all due respect, I—"
"That's enough."
Habergram shook his head and held his hand up to forestall Drake's retort. He kept his irritation from showing in his expression and dismissed the colonel.
"Mr. Johnson will take your report on the state of the eastern front. Feel free to tell him any details that might get removed from the report. I think that's enough for one day."
"Thank you for your time, sir. I could also prepare something in writing for Mr. Johnson instead of an oral report."
"Like me, he's an old man. I don't think he has the patience for a letter. Give it to him quick and straight… And make sure to tell him about that illusion you saw."
With a quick thank-you, Drake was shooed out of the room where the man who led him there was waiting. Guided with a quick "This way, sir," Drake realized there was no use pressing the issue any further.
That was probably for the better. "…An illusion…?"
Lieutenant Colonel Drake mumbled to himself as he walked down the hall. He felt like someone had just told him a terrible joke. Had General Habergram breathed in a bit too much of this country's moldering air?
"Is this the fabled fog of war everyone always talks about?"
His wounded shoulder began to throb. Maybe this was an illusion, too.
The medical treatment he received in the homeland was performed magically, and his shoulder had already fully healed. There was no reason for it to hurt any longer, but the injury screamed at him all the same.
"I know what I saw."
The little devil who wreaked havoc on the battlefield.
That unmistakable thirst for blood and that expert formula control told him
everything he needed to know. He had gotten so close he had to resort to a suicidal attack to finally break free, and the general thinks he's seeing things? Even an optical deception formula wouldn't be able to trick him at that distance.
That infuriating voice was what really gave it away!
He would never forget it for as long as he lived. There was no way to mistake it for someone else.
"…Seems like the information coming from up top can't be trusted. As they say, seeing is believing. I trust my own two eyes."
He didn't know who the devil was. He probably never would. But all he knew was that the intel they had on the Devil of the Rhine was absolutely full of shit.
"This is going to drive me insane… I'd better head to the pub and knock back a few to get this off my mind."
The person leading him through the hall stayed silent as Drake's mood grew worse and worse.
It was at that exact moment when a man in a nice suit at the end of the hall noticed him and called out his name in surprise.
"Oh, if it isn't Drake! I didn't know you were back in the homeland. Why the long face? Did something happen?"
"Kim? Ah, just some business in the east. I'd rather not talk about it." "Sounds rough. I'll buy you a drink. I bet you haven't been to a proper
pub in a while now, have you?"
The friendly offer made Drake happy. He was in a genuinely tough spot. All he wanted to do was coop up in a pub with a pint in hand and talk about all the garbage he was dealing with.
The sad truth was he still had some work to do. His night would be spent filling out mandatory forms before he could enjoy the sweet release of booze.
"Thanks, but I'm not free just yet. Sorry, but I'll be on my way."
"Be careful now, you hear? You can always drop me a line if there's anything wrong!"
Drake appreciated the homeland for its friendly hospitality… But he didn't think that really extended to venting about the intelligence agency to one of its agents.
Drake said his thanks before following his guide to Mr. Johnson's office. All he wanted to do was up and run to a pub at this point. He shook his
head.
"No, I'll just grab a drink when this is all finished."
Though there was no way for him to know this, Drake's abilities as an aerial magic officer were held in extremely high regard. So much so that the Commonwealth intelligence agency valued him higher than he did himself.
It went without saying that those at the Commonwealth Intelligence Service Headquarters weren't the types to openly tell him this, though. But the general consensus was that he was the real deal.
He was as loyal to the Royal Army and the crown as any naval mage. His pedigree was impeccable as well. He came from a long line of military men, and there were no problems with the way he thought or his personality. From an intelligence perspective, he was a reliable asset—something that was both rare and extremely valuable.
This was part of the reason he had been the officer chosen to go straight into the rotten nest that was the Federation. The Commonwealth used those it trusted first and foremost.
If he says he saw that mage, then it was more than worth considering the plausibility. Enough for Habergram to seriously consider doing so, at least.
Though he shot the man down during his debriefing…it was actually quite difficult for him not to show his shock. If it had been anybody else, the general would've kicked them out of the room without a second thought. But it had come from a man he trusted.
That was what caused him to groan. "The Devil of the Rhine? In the east?"
He didn't want to admit it was the same mage. But he also couldn't prove that the devil hadn't been there.
The source that told him the Devil of the Rhine was in the west was proven. There were also many reports coming from the defensive line set up along the channel that corroborated the claim.
That said, Lieutenant Colonel Drake was fresh back from the east; his information was still new. What's more, he insisted that he saw the devil in the flesh. Was the imperial ace there just to help Zettour go on the offensive? This wouldn't explain the infamous battalion's whereabouts, though. They
had them perfectly marked.
The Devil of the Rhine's battalion was unmistakably stationed in the west… So why would their commander be seen in the east? Well, it wasn't unheard of for commanders to occasionally move on their own. There were certainly cases where they would go on leave or move around for communication purposes.
If that were the case, though, then what circumstances would lead the devil to participate in a battle? That was unheard of. Why leave your battalion in the west only to go fight in the east? Habergram couldn't think of a reason why.
Not a single conceivable reason. He could only see it as a complete and utter contradiction.
"…What the hell is going on?"
He had in his hands Ultra's intel—decoded Imperial Army transmissions.
These described the Devil of the Rhine's and the mage battalion's movements in great detail. Every last one said they were heading west. They were stationed there as a part of the Lergen Kampfgruppe. The devil would be reporting directly to Lieutenant General Romel. Looking at the pair's service records, they were such a good match that it made the analysts sick to their stomachs.
These two were like demons who could consistently come out on top of nearly every hand in this shitty card game called war.
Evidently, they were in the middle of planning a commando strike on the Commonwealth homeland. Sending the Devil of the Rhine in first…made sense, to say the least. Leading the assault with aerial mages was perfectly logical in military terms.
There was no reason to not believe it until word came from a soldier trusted as much as Ultra that he had seen the devil in the east. As inconceivable as it sounded, Habergram couldn't simply brush the report aside.
"Lieutenant Colonel Drake says he saw the devil in the east… What a pain in my ass. Does this mean the Devil of the Rhine has relocated?"
He wanted to reject the notion, but he couldn't flat out discard the possibility. So what was the correct response to all this?
He thought of the worst-case scenario—endless possibilities began flooding his mind. But he had to figure out which of them would be the most
catastrophic. Would it be the scenario where the enemy figured out radio codes had been deciphered and were actively using this against them by sowing counterintelligence?
That was certainly a possibility, except for the fact that they had been confirming every last thing they gleaned from the intercepted messages. They knew that imperial ships were covertly assembling in a single location thanks to their SIGINT work and sources in the resistance.
The danger of intercepting fake messages was ever present…but the Empire had a tendency to put too much stock in their encryptions.
The biggest giveaway was how unsettling the channel had become. Considering the number of friendly mages who had been taken out as of late, the Commonwealth intelligence community felt a pressing need to remain wary of a powerhouse with the ability to change the game.
"I'd hate for this to be a ruse…"
Habergram stopped, then knocked himself in the head with his knuckles. Cruel logic and reality dictated the course of intel battles. There was no point in him hoping for one outcome over another.
"I have to let go of my desires…and think purely about the possibilities." Was the enemy on to them deciphering their codes? If that were the case,
then Ultra would be in trouble. However, there wasn't any other evidence that Ultra's intel had been compromised.
"What if they've picked up on Ultra's identity and are laying an elaborate trap?"
Doubt and suspicion were couched in every thought, and his mind was tormented by his inability to trust anything.
Was this the fate of those who handle information? General Habergram rubbed his temple while he smoked his cigar. He then helped himself to some of the brandy hidden under his desk before letting out another groan.
He didn't know. He couldn't be sure of anything. "Which one could it be?"
Was the enemy playing a trick on them, or were they still in the clear? "No… There's no feasible way for them to know about our source. It just
doesn't add up. Let's think this through. If they were going to use Ultra to entrap us, they would have reacted in some noticeable way from an intelligence and military perspective."
If the Empire even suspected that their codes were no longer safe, they
would have almost certainly changed up as a matter of security. Considering that all the SIGINT coming in and out of the Imperial Army had remained the same, it was hard to believe they were aware of Ultra.
"…But then again, what if it's part of a wider scheme?"
There wasn't enough time in the world for him to worry about every single possibility.
As much as he wanted to put his mind at ease, the amount of stress this was causing seemed liable to give him PTSD.
Habergram continued to sigh and sigh until he poured himself some tea. He found himself cursing the trade route—both its general complications and how it had led to his ignominious fall in the ranks.
It's not as if he lacked for results. Using Ultra's info, he knew where each of the enemy submarines was stationed. He had managed to pull the channel shipping back from the brink by grouping their merchant marine ships into armed convoys to protect them from imperial U-boats.
This strongly suggested that Ultra's information was still reliable. But the fact that it was merely a suggestion was frightening.
Was Ultra right? Were they wrong?
Not knowing the truth was a terrible feeling. The general noticed a peculiar side effect of staring at his office's ceiling too much in consternation. He had memorized the pattern of his ceiling.
"I know it's ridiculous, but I'm really starting to hate this ceiling. Damn it
—if I knew I'd be staring at it this much, I'd have painted a picture or something."
Every stain he saw reminded him of something he'd worried about in the past… It was incredibly annoying. It felt like he'd spend the rest of his day grumbling to his ceiling.
He played with the idea of hanging his own pictures.
He added this thought to a list of things to do, and in an attempt to figure things out, Habergram picked up the black receiver of a phone on his desk and dialed a number.
"You've reached Section B."
The voice that answered his call was a frail, lifeless one—as if their poor soul was in charge of patrolling the seventh circle of hell.
"It's Habergram."
"…General? Do you need something?"
"I need to talk to you about the strength of our encryptions. Now. Send me the officer in charge," he demanded.
A few hours later, there was a knock on his office door. An officer who looked exhausted after working for days on end let himself in.
The bags under his eyes proved that he suffered from a clear lack of sleep. His unkempt stubble also stood out. This happened to even the fittest of officers who spent too much time in the decoding department, which considered nothing but talent when recruiting.
As for his uniform, well, at least he remembered to wear his hat. But…his appearance was more than enough to put Habergram in a bad mood. He expected his subordinates to dress and act like gentlemen.
"Hello, Colonel. Looking mighty dapper today, aren't we?"
"Forgive me, sir. We're just so short on staff, and…well, we're short on everything these days."
The man buckled a bit at his superior's sarcastic comment, a sign that he hadn't completely lost his humanity. One look at his tired eyes was enough for the general to understand just how worn down the decoding officer was.
Unfortunately, he had called him there to question the fruits of the man's labor.
"There are worrying signs we may not be accurately decoding the Empire's messages. I want you to go back and look through them, taking into account that counterintelligence may have been planted in the intercepts. We need to find out if anything's not adding up and fast."
Were their readings accurate? Or were they being tricked?
This was a question that could determine the outcome of the war. The decoding officer, utterly unfazed by the question, confidently answered his superior.
"If that's the issue, then let me reassure you." "About what?"
"That we've cracked the Empire's codes without a doubt. I believe there have yet to be any discrepancies with the magic intel we've provided."
The man spoke with confidence. This colonel oversaw the department that stood on the front lines of a cryptological battle unfolding between the Commonwealth and the Empire. He had absolute faith in his department's work.
"We have a strong grasp on their coding patterns and the communication habits of their individual officers. We've conducted cross-examinations of multiple codes. We've even been able to reduce our deciphering times to the point where we can almost crack their messages in real time."
"That's true…for now…," Habergram said before pointing out a possibility they needed to be aware of. "The issue is whether or not they've picked up on our ability to decipher their messages."
Even if they knew exactly what the Empire was saying, whether that information was real and actionable was another story entirely.
It was fully within the realm of possibility that they were sending out false information to throw off complacent code crackers. Lacing such counterintelligence with tidbits of truth was the best way to trip up your enemies.
"Do you think there's a possibility they're on to us? Or that there's a possibility of them using dummy codes to throw us off?"
"We haven't seen any signs of that happening…" "I want you to make absolutely sure."
This was easy to say but incredibly difficult to do. The cryptography department was already using all their resources to decipher encoded messages; asking them to analyze the message's accuracy would grind their staff into dust.
The colonel's already lifeless face seemed to wither even more as he grimaced. Habergram didn't fail to notice his reaction, but he remained steadfast about his orders.
"We need to examine these codes. There's no time to waste."
The colonel obeyed, and after having the entire Intelligence branch go through every message they'd deciphered, the result of their audit was delivered with a simple report.
No abnormalities detected.
The Commonwealth Intelligence Service could still read the Empire's encrypted messages like an open book.