The first echelon was destroying the Imperial Army with the momentum of a turbulent wave. The resistance offered by the troops hunkered down in their strongpoints was even weaker than expected. Federation Army Command celebrated this as a sign that the Imperial Army was in greater decline than imagined. However, several bizarre reports were also cause for concern.
1. The high number of enemy troops active on the roads.
2. An order issued by Imperial Army Command? A so-called Plan No. 4.
3. And to top it all off, the airborne operation against Imperial Eastern Army Command had ended in failure. Even they had waited until after confirming that their specialist team of partisans and other forces, together with proper military and secret police, had forced the Empire to commit their remaining reserves before sending in their airborne unit, which even included mages.
The airborne force should have easily overwhelmed the command’s security forces.
The attacking airborne brigade had the advantage, but an unidentified armored force suddenly appeared and sideswiped the brigade, leading to completely mind-boggling results. Furthermore, this unit was accompanied by an infantry unit of comparable strength to the Federation’s airborne infantry. Who could blame the airborne unit for complaining that this wasn’t what they had signed up for?
By the time an assault gun appeared to place the final nail in the coffin, the airborne assault unit had no choice but to retreat. According to reports, their accompanying mage company had been wiped out entirely.
Naturally, no one left in Federation Army Command was foolish enough to believe an outcome so convenient for the Empire had developed by chance. They were now faced with several questions:
How was the enemy able to muster an unknown force at such a convenient time?
If the enemy had unknown reserves at the ready, why was the general advance proceeding so decisively?
And why were the enemy’s advance positions more brittle than expected?
The answer soon became clear. There was only one unfortunate explanation: It was possible that the enemy was executing a full withdrawal to avoid the Federation’s initial attack.
That can’t be, thought the officers, growing pale as they turned to face one another, only to see the same fear in their comrades’ eyes. They glanced furtively at the map, now predicting the worst.
Rising Dawn was a large-scale offensive aiming to achieve a strategic victory, its main goal being the total annihilation of the Imperial field army. Or, to put it another way, their one true objective was the enemy’s field army.
And if that objective were to retreat just as the first echelon advanced, and leave Operation Rising Dawn to tilt at empty space…?
The Federation officers had a bad feeling about this. A cold chill swept over them. Had they been caught in a con?
Judging solely from the map, the Federation Army’s advantage looked firm. The Imperial Army’s defensive line was crumbling. Their reserves were weak and flimsy, whereas the Federation’s supply lines were robust.
Furthermore, they had a second echelon waiting in the wings to support the first. All that remained was to steamroll westward once the Imperial Army’s main force on the Eastern Front was no more.
Or so it should have been. But something was strange. Disturbing reports were coming from the field. Foreboding signs seemed to confirm the worst for Operation Rising Dawn’s command personnel.
“Why haven’t the supplies arrived?!”
“They were attacked by the enemy?! But we accounted for potential losses and prepared multiple shipments!!”
“The supply dump was destroyed?!”
“O-our supply train…?!”
Logistics.
Emergency reports were coming in that their supposedly robust, unassailable logistic networks were being thrown into disarray by Imperial mages. The Federation had anticipated that such a scenario might occur, incorporating the relentless demands from higher-ups to stay on guard against Imperial Army decapitation tactics and interdiction of supply lines, allowing for almost too much redundancy and dedicated interceptors.
They had even beefed up their supply units with ample defense, modifying trucks with copious anti-air weapons.
Or at least, that should have been the case. However, something strange was afoot.
“A-a division? A whole division?!”
A staff officer gripped the receiver, gaping in dismay.
“The Imperial Army should be scraping the bottom of the barrel for manpower. How are they able to attack our supply lines with a whole division of aerial mages?! I thought they barely had enough mages for a single division in all of the East put together?!”
“Perhaps they’ve diverted every last one.”
“Redeploy their mages, all of them, in perfect timing with Rising Dawn? On the spot, without hesitation?!”
The staff officers couldn’t believe such a thing was possible.
The core aim of Rising Dawn was the complete annihilation of the Imperial field army, which is precisely why they had disguised it as a full-out offensive with grand battleplans, combining an advance across a huge front with a doctrine of superior firepower. Under normal circumstances, the idea of gathering up every last mage in a theater and deploying them to attack supply lines that might not even exist seemed unthinkable.
Could the enemy have foreseen that targeting logistics would starve the first echelon and prevent them from moving…? That seemed preposterous. But then, how?
“Those imperial fiends…!”
“How have they managed to choose the one response to Rising Dawn that is sure to hurt the Federation the most?”
“Damn them! Why are they always so good at war?!”
JANUARY 17, UNIFIED YEAR 1928, IMPERIAL CAPITAL, GENERAL STAFF OFFICE
There was one man in the capital who was smiling. At that moment, he was perhaps the happiest man in the world. From the deepest pit of despair—when the path toward his dream was closing before his very eyes—he had been delivered the most splendiferous news in the most unexpected of ways. The future was certain, and joy was written all over his face.
He was happy.
If only everyone could be as happy as he, the world would surely be a more wonderful place. But unfortunately, General Zettour’s happiness was so unique that not even the young First Lieutenant standing by his side could share in it.
Regardless, General Zettour puffed contentedly on his cigar with a smile toying at his lips as he tossed his wound watch onto the desk. The mechanical parts made the hands move, but even a hand-wound timepiece required the occasional human intervention.
It was the same in war when faced with overwhelming steel.
In that case, thought General Zettour, feeling deeply moved, whether old or young, as humans we must celebrate moments like this in our own way.
“Lieutenant Grantz, my apologies for calling you here. I know your time has been short, but have you been enjoying the capital?”
“Yes, General.”
“Now, now, there is no need to be so formal. I simply wanted to share some of the joy you have brought me,” said General Zettour, with a tut and a smile. “I hope you have gotten your rest, because I now have a request for you. You’ve already done so much, but would you mind carrying a message for me?”
“What kind of message?”
“The necessary kind.”
“Necessary?”
Without meaning to, First Lieutenant Grantz allowed a hint of confusion and fear to creep into his voice. Poor man. General Zettour felt a faint twinge of sympathy for the young first lieutenant.
This complete upending of history. It seemed the young fellow was not yet used to such an exquisite vintage. Could anything be so intoxicating, so rich, so luscious and full-bodied?
General Zettour whisked his disappointment away with a single grimace. If this exquisite vintage was wasted on the young, he would just have to keep it for his own aging self. Not that he underestimated the value of having a friend who could share in the occasion.
“Give my regards to Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff. She should understand.”
“Yes! May I have your message?”
“As you wish,” said General Zettour, picking up his pen and writing across the page. He had penned several orders in his time and approved countless documents, but never before had he experienced such a thrill as his pen ran across paper in this moment.
“Ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha, ha-ha-ha. How delightful.”
He was so giddy that keeping his pen from slipping was a gargantuan task.
“Incredible, incredible. For everything to be overturned at a juncture such as this. All it took, for everything to come true by this hand.”
Understanding a problem was half the way to solving it, but when it came to unraveling a solution, violence still had its place. Punch out the Fates as they weave their web. Off with their heads.
“If we are going to take an advance on fate, we might as well borrow all that we can. Why not, when there is nothing else to lose? The Empire is invincible. Or at the very least, I, General Zettour, have nothing to fear. Not even from fate.
“After all, I am an irresponsible borrower.”
When he thought of it that way, his worries began to fade. The world had once been so gray, but now it was brilliant, dazzling with color. Everything was vivid and clear.
He could make the choice that needed to be made now, without hesitation. The road to the future was easy to see when it was painted in crimson.
“Who cares about planting next year’s harvest? Especially when we’ll die if we don’t eat today.”