FEBRUARY 2, UNIFIED YEAR 1928, SKIES OVER THE EAST
Colonel Lergen sighed deeply as he stared down at the ground in the East from the window of a transport plane.
“What has happened here…?”
Despite not being trained in aerial reconnaissance, even Lergen could see at a glance how bad things were. Bridges had been burned, and while the frozen road surfaces had loosened up somewhat, the remains of what had once been vehicles and people—now reduced to husks—still littered the roads.
Lergen had more field experience than most. Due to his time in Ildoa, he could safely say that he had witnessed the most groundbreaking instance of mobile warfare ever carried out to date.
And yet, that experience proved useless now.
This looked less like a battle of tactical skill and more like a total artifice—an almost systematically staged alien front.
Lergen felt uneasy. He couldn’t make what he was seeing sit right. If he had possessed a mind for both governance and command, like General Zettour, perhaps he might have seen things differently.
“Does anyone understand the true nature of the East…?” he muttered impulsively.
An unwieldy feeling of discomfort rose from the pit of his stomach. Was it revulsion at the immense sacrifice below, fear at this glimpse of catastrophe, or just an animalistic sense that something was very wrong?
A question that was perhaps better left unanswered. Colonel Lergen crossed his arms while sitting in the transport, coming to the wry conclusion that maybe he was just being dramatic.
“How is this any different from total war? I can’t quite put it into words, but…is there something going on here that goes beyond somehow?”
Lergen peeked out of the plane’s window at the ground below and sighed once more. The time for thinking was done; he was too agitated to ponder now, after all. And who could blame him? This jumbo transport plane was about to land directly on a frontline runway! The prospect was hair-raising enough to banish all other thoughts for the moment.
“By the love of God, just let us land safely,” he prayed, though he knew that the only surviving transport captains left in the East at this point were skilled veterans.
To be honest, he had half expected such a landing. Considering the alternative of touching down at the nearest base and, worst-case scenario, possibly needing to be carried over some mage’s shoulder, heading directly to the front seemed like the much better option.
And besides, as rough as it was to land on a hastily constructed battlefield runway, after listening to the pilots boast about how their trusty plane would get him there—as long as they were the ones behind the controls—it was hard to refuse. After all, it was the General Staff who had expropriated so many of their rare transport planes in the first place.
Chalking this up to payback, Lergen managed to resist the urge to shout, “You’re not planning on landing this plane, overloaded with so much machinery, on a runway as rugged as that, are you?!”
Although truthfully, he would have preferred to have a little more time to mentally prepare before touching down—seeing as there was a meeting with Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff awaiting him below.
When it came to Degurechaff, sometimes even Lergen found it difficult to understand her. But he could easily picture the shock an honorable, patriotic soldier like her was going to feel upon being informed that, due to the absolutely appropriate actions she had taken, she was being stripped of her commendations.
Lergen sympathized. He would even allow that there were extenuating circumstances involved if, for instance, she had an outburst. In any case, for whatever reason, Lergen was the one forced to deliver this news. He was on tenterhooks the whole way there, his stomach protesting faintly.
That he, of all people, should do this after leaning so heavily on her achievements while she operated under the banner of Lergen Kampfgruppe! How was he supposed to look her in the eye and tell her with a straight face that she was being censured for deviating from protocol?
Despite the deep conflict he felt inside, his body behaved as it was trained to do, automatically exchanging the expected salutes with the ground crew before heading off toward a location near frontline command, where the person he had come to see was already waiting.
Lergen could remember how he had gotten there. When his feet finally came to a halt, however, there she was, looking as nonplussed as ever.
“Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff.”
The atmosphere felt slightly awkward, giving Lergen second thoughts about what he was about to do. He must have been feeling timid after spending so much time worrying over what to say. It took a while before he could muster together some plea for understanding.
“I know how wise you are, Lieutenant Colonel. Likely you already know what I am doing here?”
He must have sounded so pathetic. But the eyes that greeted him were full of assurance, confident in the fact that she had admirably fulfilled her role.
“Naturally. I assume you are here, Colonel Lergen, to praise me on a job well done?”
He doubted Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff truly believed there was no issue with her actions. However, she still seemed proud of the results she had achieved, as she might. It wasn’t just Lergen; even in General Zettour’s judgment, the lieutenant colonel had saved them all.
In the end, she had made the appropriate decision. The Empire, its fragile Eastern Front, had avoided being declared dead on the spot by only the narrowest of margins. And the credit, as it were, belonged to the lieutenant colonel.
“Although some of the finer details may have been a bit shady…”
All the same!
“That is true, Colonel. I was extremely shocked, myself, to learn that the orders I received from the director of operations had not been posted to the gazette. Imagine a bureaucratic slip-up of that magnitude! But what can one do, I suppose.”
“Hrm?”
“I understand that, due to the unfortunate loss of Field Marshal Rudersdorf, the General Staff has been in disarray. But as one of those involved in this operation, I must express my deepest regrets for failing to adequately fulfill the role bestowed upon me as a member of the operational staff responsible for strategic direction in the East by General Zettour and Field Marshal Rudersdorf.”
Why am I here expecting excuses from the lieutenant colonel? thought Lergen. And why was she concocting them now with such a straight face? What is the point of any of this?!
“I’m sorry, when were you assigned such a position?”
Lergen knew he was letting his curiosity get the better of him. There were other things they should be discussing right now. His voice, however, remained incredibly calm, betraying none of the turmoil inside him.
“Why, on September 10th, Unified Year 1927, of course.”
“What in the world are you talking about?”
“It was just before the unfortunate incident that befell Field Marshal Rudersdorf. I received a direct verbal order from both General Zettour and Field Marshal Rudersdorf.”
“Indeed?” Lergen raised an eyebrow, crossed his arms, and made an effort to speak as openly as he could within the limits of authority and innuendo. “Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff…”
“Sir?”
“We can dispense with the charade. No, never mind. What I mean to say is, I am aware of the details. In the general’s words, you did well. Do you understand what I am trying to say?”
“It is an honor, Colonel.”
“Yes, you did very well. Considering the situation, extraordinarily well. It is clear that things could not have been handled any better.”
However, Lergen’s tone suddenly grew dark.
After a brief silence, Colonel Lergen spun around, overwhelmed by the lieutenant colonel’s eyes, and turned his back on her. While facing away, he crossed his arms and sighed in anguish.
“General Zettour, for his part, described what you did as an impressive feat of no small acumen. He said that both your grasp of the situation and your prescription for action were the work of a dazzling intellect.
“However,” Lergen continued, realizing he was beginning to groan. “I wonder…if there was no other way?”
Although Lergen knew he was letting his feelings almost entirely dictate his words now, he could find no other way of expressing what he meant at that moment.
“The fundamental approach was tremendous. But, Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff, surely you must understand that the methods were inexorable.”
“All I did was make a necessary arbitrary decision, within the bounds permitted by my authority.”
“And that is what was so awful.
“Listen,” Lergen continued. “The truth of the matter is that you falsified orders and impersonated authority. It is a serious case of fraud. The results may have turned out for the best, but the ends do not always justify the means.”
“It was necessary.”
In the face of her firm answer and unwavering stare, Lergen could only mutter in response. “Yes, I will give that it was necessary. Likewise, in the name of necessity, all of your achievements now will be stricken from the record. Be aware that if you protest, it could further damage your military record!”
This was his personal advice. Lergen was there to censure her, so it was the best he could offer without overstepping his bounds. However, Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff remained firm, replying with absolute solemnity.
“Without the homeland, I would have no record at all.”
Lergen was left speechless.
The preservation of the homeland—she was right. Military records, the army, even the Empire itself—would have been meaningless if they had lost this war.
Lergen felt inconsolable. It was only because Lieutenant Colonel Degurechaff had been willing to sacrifice herself to save the army that the army now had the luxury to point blame at its savior for breaking the rules.
And he, an adult, had to have this explained to him by a child—a mere child.
How was he supposed to respond? Praise her for her duty? Express his respect for her resolve? Or feel shame at being so useless at his age?
At that moment, all words felt trite. For that reason, he could do little more than bow his head.
“Forgive me, you saved us all.”
“Tut, it was no big deal.”
But it was, indeed, a very big deal. And it felt strange to hear her speak so dismissively of it. Who was he to chide such an esteemed military figure? Lergen sighed.
“I have nothing but the utmost respect for you.”
“If I were to pride myself on anything, it would be to receive the esteem of a predecessor as illustrious as yourself.”
“You honor me. But if that is the case, perhaps you should receive your praise directly from General Zettour instead.”
“General Zettour…? You don’t mean that he is coming to the front lines, do you?”
“Indeed. He is coming for an inspection. Oh, and His Majesty the Emperor will be joining Zettour, taking the place of Her Highness Alexandra, who already visited the front lines.”