The imperial capital, Eisenburg.
What hung over the palace conference hall was not the blessed carols of Christmas Eve, but a silence like that of a funeral home. The only sounds to be heard were the intermittent clacking of typewriters and the sighs of the staff officers.
“……Sector Four has fallen. The 12th Division is in retreat.”
“Communications with Fortress Five have been lost. Presumed annihilated.”
It was one piece of tragic news after another.
On the enormous operations map, the blue flags symbolizing the Imperial Army were being pushed back helplessly. Meanwhile, the red flags symbolizing the Republic were advancing with unstoppable momentum.
“The western front is… effectively finished.”
The one who broke the silence was the imperial chancellor, Count Leopold.
“The Third Corps has collapsed, and the remaining forces have lost their chain of command and are fleeing in rout. We must admit it, Your Majesty. The border defense line has been breached.”
The face of Emperor Ferdinand IV, seated at the head of the table, twisted in pain.
“Then… are you telling me to abandon the west? To hand over its people and its territory to the enemy?”
“This is a time for selection and concentration.”
Leopold was cold.
“If we send reinforcements recklessly now, they will only be defeated in detail. We must abandon the west and establish a new defensive line centered on the capital, Eisenburg. We must give up flesh to take bone.”
“But…!”
“The chancellor has a point.”
The one who spoke next was the commander-in-chief of the Imperial Army, Field Marshal Ludwig von Stahlberg.
The emperor’s gaze fixed on Ludwig.
“Even you say such things, Marshal? Your daughter is… on the western front, is she not?”
Ludwig’s eyebrows twitched faintly.
There was no way he did not know that the 7th Brigade, which included his daughter Erika, had been hurriedly dispatched to Rosenheim, the very front line of the western front.
But before he was a father, he was a field marshal of the Empire.
“…Personal feelings must be excluded. From a military standpoint, Rosenheim has most likely already been erased from the map.”
Ludwig pointed with his baton at a small dot on the map—Rosenheim.
“This is the place struck head-on by the enemy’s main thrust, the Second Corps. It is a hell into which they have thrown three hundred tanks and fifty thousand troops. By contrast, our defending force consists of only one infantry brigade and part of the routed Third Corps. At most, a little over five thousand men.”
A tenfold difference in strength. And on top of that, it was bare-handed infantry against a state-of-the-art armored force.
“It has been three days since communications were cut. Three days is… more than enough time for a single brigade to be annihilated and its corpses buried beneath the snow. It is too late to hope for a miracle.”
Ludwig’s voice was dry, yet filled with grief.
“Hmm….”
The emperor sank deep into his throne. Abandoning the west was a painful decision, but it was better than allowing the capital to fall.
“…Very well. We shall do as the chancellor suggests. Relay this to all forces. Abandon the western front and assemble under Capital Defense Command….”
It was at that very moment, just as the emperor was struggling to give the order.
“Your Excellency! Marshal! An emergency transmission!”
A communications officer tore off his headset and came running in.
“How insolent! What do you think you are doing in the middle of an imperial council?”
Chancellor Leopold roared, but the officer, panting for breath, poured out his words.
“From, from the western front… We have received a transmission from Rosenheim!”
In that instant, silence followed in the conference hall.
Field Marshal Ludwig shot to his feet.
“Rosenheim, you say? The communications network there should have been completely destroyed!”
“An interception unit monitoring the enemy’s lines picked it up! It was an emergency transmission mixed with our cipher code!”
“They were alive? Was it Brigadier General Dietrich? Or my daughter, Erika?”
Urgency colored Ludwig’s voice. If the brigade commander was alive, it meant the chain of command was still intact.
But the communications officer shook his head with a troubled expression.
“N-no. The sender is… not Brigadier General Karl von Dietrich.”
“Then who is it?”
With trembling hands, the officer held out the decoded message.
“The sender code is… Captain Max Jaeger, commander of the 2nd Company, 1st Battalion.”
Max Jaeger.
The moment that name was spoken, Ludwig’s eyes narrowed.
That rat-like bastard. The one skilled at maneuvering for advantage, always busy protecting his own rice bowl—he had sent a transmission in this situation?
“What does it say? Is it a request for rescue? Or is he asking permission to surrender?”
Chancellor Leopold asked with a sneer. It was only natural. The only message defeated remnants isolated for three days could send would be a scream begging to be saved.
“T-that is not it. I will read the message exactly as written.”
The communications officer swallowed dryly and read the report in a clear voice.
[To: Imperial Army General Headquarters]
[From: Captain Max Jaeger]
[As of the present time, the culminating point of the enemy Second Corps’ offensive has been confirmed.]
[Enemy vanguard armored battalion destroyed. Follow-up infantry regiment broken. At present, Republic forces have halted their advance on the outskirts of Rosenheim and are maintaining an encirclement.]
[We are still intact.]
[However, we request the prompt delivery of coffee, 88mm armor-piercing shells, and prize money.]
[Additionally, glory to the Empire.]
“…….”
Silence.
A silence of a different sort from before—a silence born of shock—struck the conference hall.
“…What did you say?”
The emperor asked back with a blank expression.
“The enemy offensive… has stopped? An armored battalion was destroyed?”
It was an unbelievable report. No, it was a report that should not be believed. Mere infantry rabble had stopped the Republic’s fierce assault, the armored offensive that had made the Empire tremble in fear?
And what was that wording? Not a plea to be saved, but coffee and prize money?
“Ha, haha….”
Field Marshal Ludwig let out a hollow laugh.
“That insane… rat-like bastard.”
With trembling hands, he took out a cigar and bit it between his teeth. They were before the emperor, but no one pointed out his rudeness. Everyone’s nerves were fixed on that lowly captain buried in some distant western sewer.
“Your Majesty.”
Ludwig’s deep voice split the conference hall.
“We must revise the defense plan.”
Whooo. Cigar smoke poured from his mouth.
“The west is not dead yet.”
Chancellor Leopold, quick to judge the situation, immediately objected.
“This is deception! It may be an enemy trap. An isolated unit is asking for coffee—are they in their right minds?”
“That is why it is real, Chancellor.”
Ludwig said, grinding out his cigar.
“Men who submit false reports usually beg to be saved, or inflate enemies that do not exist. But look at this man. Coffee? Prize money? This is… composure. It is nerve, sent straight to us.”
Ludwig’s finger tapped Rosenheim, the sole blue dot on the map.
“He knows. He knows that right now, he has the Empire by the throat. He is raising the stakes so that we cannot abandon him.”
“B-but….”
“Your Majesty.”
Ludwig bowed his head toward the emperor.
“It is time to gamble. The Republic’s tiger has caught its ankle in the trap that rat laid. The more they struggle, the deeper the wound will become. If not now, there will be no chance.”
Life returned to Emperor Ferdinand IV’s eyes. A single piece of good news falling onto a battlefield heavy with defeat. To an emperor who loved heroes and thirsted for victory, Max Jaeger’s insolent message was the greatest Christmas gift.
“Good. We permit it.”
The emperor rose from his throne.
“Dispatch two capital defense divisions to the west at once! The air force, the supply units—turn everything toward Rosenheim!”
“Your Majesty! The capital will be emptied!”
“It does not matter! That captain says he wishes to drink coffee, does he not? An imperial hero is thirsty; as emperor, I cannot very well offer him only water!”
Ignoring the chancellor’s concern, he continued.
“Send him the finest coffee beans from the New Continent. And tell him this: if he only holds out, I will give him not coffee, but my entire wine cellar!”
The emperor’s hearty laughter rang through the conference hall.
“All Imperial soldiers, hear us! Before Christmas comes!”
“Let Rosenheim hear the song of triumph!”
No sooner had the emperor’s declaration fallen than the conference hall became busy. The logistics bases of the frozen imperial capital, Eisenburg, began turning at a terrifying pace. The elite units that were the pride of the Empire began to move without delay.
But until the promise of a glorious triumph could be fulfilled,
the reality of Rosenheim, the hell of the western front, was still a sewer.
*
“……Fuck, I really am going to die.”
Leaning against the collapsed rubble, I spat out a clot of blood. In my mouth, the metallic tang of blood, the gritty dust of earth, and cold snowflakes mixed together in a nauseating harmony.
‘Analyze condition.’
[Name: Max Jaeger]
[Condition: Nervous system overload due to mana depletion, severe muscle fatigue, sleep deprivation, moderate hypothermia]
The condition analysis window was kindly reciting in text that my body was already on the verge of going on strike.
The price of forcibly opening my mana circuits was brutal. High-output mana operation that ignored neuroplasticity made it feel as if my brain cells were being fried in real time, while the freezing cold below zero drove ice picks into every scorched nerve ending.
“Captain… you’re bleeding too much. Your face is so cold too…….”
Hanna wiped my face with trembling hands.
“I’m fine. I won’t die. I know my condition better than anyone.”
I took Hanna’s shaking hand and placed it on my shoulder. Then I forced the corners of my mouth upward.
In truth, it was a lie. [Analyze Condition] was broadcasting my wrecked nervous system in real time.
But [Indomitable Spirit], that goddamn passive skill, had my consciousness by the scruff of the neck and was dragging it along. If I’m going to die, at least knock me out—at times like this, it was so very considerate.
“Hanna.”
I gestured with my chin to the spot beside me.
“Come here.”
“Yes… yes, Captain.”
Without hesitation, Hanna slipped into my arms. The moment her body touched mine, a tiny bit of sensation returned to my frozen nerves.
“Are you warm, Captain?”
Hanna asked, rubbing her face against my chest.
“Yeah. You’re practically a stove.”
I stroked her hair.
“Just a little… let’s stay like this for a little while. I can’t collapse in such an embarrassing way.”
That was when it happened.
“Captain!”
Gunther came scrambling over the rubble in a panic. This clueless bastard. Read the damn room.
But the look on his face was far from ordinary.
“What is it? Are they coming again?”
“N-no, sir! It’s… the sky! Look at the sky!”
Wiiiiiiiiing!!
The sound reached us almost at the same time.