The incident erupted without warning.
It happened just as I was about to open the top-shelf brandy sent by the Duke of Stahlberg’s family—supposedly worth a soldier’s yearly pay per bottle.
Bang—!
The hotel room door flew open as if it would break off its hinges. No knock, no rank and name.
The one who entered was Major Helga von Strauss. As the brigade commander’s personal adjutant, her face was not merely pale, but ashen.
“…Pack your things, Captain Jaeger.”
“Don’t tell me it’s parade time again. Is it the eastern square this time?”
I asked with feigned composure, but Helga had none to spare.
“No.”
What Helga held out was not an event schedule, but a yellowed document envelope. On its front, written in red, were the words “Transfer Orders.”
“Your leave is over. As of today, the 7th Brigade is moving to the western front.”
“…The western front? Surely not.”
I swallowed dryly.
“Yes. The Republic has launched a preemptive attack. It seems our occupation of the Ashen Forest made them feel a grave sense of crisis.”
It went without saying, but the western front was long. The Empire was vast, and its western border touched countless powers. There were barbaric demi-human races like the orcs of the Ashen Forest, but the most troublesome opponent was something else entirely.
The human power known as the “Republic.”
The Republic was a nation that could be called the Empire’s archenemy. It shared a long border with us and possessed formidable national strength and technology. Naturally, the two had clashed countless times throughout history.
The two nations had gone to war even ten years ago. They should have been in a ceasefire now.
“They broke the armistice. At dawn today, they led with new-model tanks and shelled our border fortresses. The Third Corps’ defensive line collapsed in half a day. It’s a serious situation.”
I looked at the bottle of brandy.
My stocks. My real estate. And the peaceful military life I had dreamed of.
I could hear the sound of all of it shattering to pieces. Not orcs, but fellow humans—and the bastards of the Republic, who possessed technology equal to or greater than the Empire’s.
“…Fuck.”
At last, profanity crawled out of my mouth.
*
A few hours later, Platform 4 of the Imperial Central Station.
The scene was utter chaos. The acrid smoke spewed by steam locomotives mixed with the heat given off by thousands of soldiers, making it hard to breathe.
“Second Company! Move it! Is this your first time boarding a train?!”
Gunther’s roar shook the platform.
“Stop dawdling and shove it in! Load the equipment first, then fit the men into whatever gaps are left!”
Under his rough command, our company members were crammed into freight cars like baggage. Calling it troop transport was generous; in reality, it was no different from hauling livestock.
“Ugh… Captain, this really isn’t a place for people to ride.”
Corporal Kurt came over, sweating buckets.
“Endure it. Did you expect a sleeper car on the way to the battlefield?”
“No, but still, we’re supposed to be the hero unit of the Ashen Forest. This treatment is a little…”
“Go grab more hardtack for the men. Once we arrive at the front, there might not even be time to eat.”
I kicked Kurt in the backside and sent him off. The bastard looked ready to cry, but still dashed quickly toward the supply boxes.
The atmosphere was definitely different. Far more serious than during the Ashen Forest subjugation. The soldiers knew it too. They knew we were heading to a battlefield where we were at a disadvantage.
‘Damn it.’
I roughly loosened my tie and walked toward the front of the platform. There was a special compartment area there for officers and senior staff.
“Damn it, damn it, damn it!”
The moment I entered the special compartment, I heard the hysterical shriek of Brigade Commander Brigadier General Karl von Dietrich.
“My star! My career as a general! I thought I’d finally gotten a foot into central politics, and now it’s the Republic? An armored unit? This is absurd!”
‘Status Analysis.’
[Name: Karl von Dietrich]
[Status: Extreme fear, panic, denial of reality]
[Emotion: Wants to take off his uniform and run away this instant, but is even more afraid of losing his honor.]
‘Ha, the old fox’s guts have shrunk to the size of a bean.’
I clicked my tongue. It would be troublesome if the brigade commander lost his head. If a commander gave a stupid order, the ones who died would be us.
‘Charming Speech.’
[Skill “Charming Speech” has been activated.]
I spoke in a voice that was deliberately calm, yet clear enough to be heard.
“Brigade Commander. This is actually an opportunity.”
“…What? An opportunity? Have you lost your mind?”
Dietrich’s eyes bulged as if he had heard nonsense. But I met his gaze without wavering.
“Think about it. The orc subjugation was nothing more than a localized conflict in the borderlands. The high-ranking people in the capital don’t value catching barbarians that highly. They’re quick to dismiss it as mere luck.”
I took a step closer and whispered discreetly.
“But the front against the Republic is different. It is the main battlefield His Majesty the Emperor watches so closely he loses sleep over it.”
“T-that’s…”
“Isn’t the 7th Brigade the strongest unit in the Empire? If we resolve the crisis on the western front, then you won’t simply be a brigadier general… A promotion to major general, no, even lieutenant general, wouldn’t be a dream. A seat at Central Command would be as good as yours.”
“L-lieutenant general… Central Command…”
[Skill “Charming Speech” is affecting “Karl von Dietrich.”]
[You have successfully stimulated “Karl von Dietrich’s” ambition and greed.]
Dietrich’s pupils trembled. In the eyes once filled with fear, a vitality called greed began to stir.
What overcomes fear is not courage. It is a greater desire.
“R-right? We’re a hero unit, aren’t we? We have you, and Major Seraphina too…”
“Of course. I will assist you. Who are we, after all?”
“Yes… Yes! Captain Jaeger, I’ll trust your words! Haha, yes. A crisis is an opportunity!”
“Then I will take my leave.”
I saluted and left the special compartment.
Click.
The moment the door closed, the brigade commander’s laughter was cut off. In its place came the clattering noise of the train and a rush of acrid smell.
“Hoo…”
I let out a deep sigh and tightened my tie again. It had only been honeyed words meant to soothe the brigade commander; the reality remained a sewer.
‘What opportunity? Bullshit.’
*
Screeeeech—!
With a sharp braking sound, the enormous steam locomotive came to a halt. Outside the window appeared the scenery of Rosenheim Station, the key strategic point of the western front.
“Everyone disembark! Move quickly! Don’t dawdle!”
At Sergeant Gunther’s shout, the soldiers began moving in a flurry.
“Aaaagh! My leg! My leg!”
“Medic! Bring some hemostatic over here!”
And the moment we got off, what greeted us was a hellscape of screams and chaos.
Wounded soldiers evacuated from the front lines lay sprawled in every corner of the platform. The stale stench of blood, the smell of disinfectant, and the scent of burning flesh stabbed at my nose.
I looked over one of the wounded soldiers being carried out on a stretcher.
‘Status Analysis.’
[Rank: Private First Class]
[Status: Excessive bleeding, shock, right leg amputated by high-explosive shell fragments.]
‘High-explosive shell fragments.’
This was not the work of the orcs’ crude axes or shoddy sorcery. These were the traces of modern shells fired from precisely manufactured rifled barrels.
It was then.
Weeeeeee—!
An air raid siren, shrill enough to tear the ears, resounded through Rosenheim Station.
KABOOM—!
There was no time to think. The station roof was torn away like a sheet of paper, and fragments rained down.
“Air raid! Get down!”
At the same time as someone shouted, I threw myself to the floor. The orcs of the Ashen Forest had been child’s play. What rained down overhead was not sorcery, but bombs—and the roar of modern warfare as 88mm anti-aircraft guns tore the sky apart.
“Everyone, run! If we stay here, we’re all dead!”
I grabbed a recruit who was staring blankly up at the sky by the collar and dragged him along.
“Where are we going, Captain?!”
“Into the underground bunker!”
Leaving behind the station pounded by a downpour of bombs, we ran across the half-collapsed city. This was Rosenheim’s welcoming ceremony.
*
The temporary command post set up in the underground bunker.
In that place, thick with the smell of damp mold, the staff officers of the 7th Brigade and the officers of the Third Corps who had been guarding the existing defensive line were already mixed together, shouting at one another.
“The tank armor is too thick! Even our anti-tank guns can’t penetrate it!”
“Where is rear support?! If Sector 5 is breached, they’ll have a highway straight to headquarters!”
Amid the chaotic shouting, Brigade Commander Dietrich was looking down at the operations map with a grave expression.
‘…What a mess.’
When I approached, the brigade commander raised his head as if he had met his savior.
“Oh, Captain Jaeger! You’re here! The situation is… very bad.”
He pointed at the ceiling with a trembling hand.
“The Republic bastards came in with full intent. This isn’t a simple localized conflict. An armored division… and their very best at that, is leading the charge.”
Bang—! Rumble…
No sooner had he finished speaking than the entire bunker shook violently.
“They’re receiving air support as well.”
“That isn’t the problem.”
The brigade commander sighed and held out a black-and-white photograph that had been shoved into the corner of the table.
“Look at this. The reconnaissance unit took it at the cost of their lives.”
In the photograph was a blunt-looking steel monster. Streamlined sloped armor, a thick and lengthy main gun. Compared to the Imperial Army’s outdated tanks, it was in an entirely different weight class.
‘Insane.’
I furrowed my brow. It was the Republic’s main medium tank model from the game.
That bastard’s armor, packed with mid-twentieth-century technology, could never be penetrated by weapons carried by infantry. Even Seraphina’s magic bullets had a high chance of ricocheting off.
“High Command has given one order.”
Brigade Commander Dietrich spoke in a trembling voice.
“Hold them back, even if you die.”
It was no different from a death sentence. Telling a mere infantry brigade to hold back an elite armored division—no sane headquarters could issue such an order. The faces of the staff officers around us were steeped in despair as well.
But my gaze was not on the despairing command post, nor on the tank in the photograph. It was directed toward an unrelated memory from the train station a short while ago.
The massive gun barrels defending Rosenheim Station.
‘There were anti-aircraft guns, I’m sure of it.’
They said we absolutely couldn’t pierce armor?
“Brigade Commander, there’s no need to die.”
Twisting up the corner of my mouth, I spoke to the brigade commander.
“This can be solved if we simply lower our heads a little.”