The stupidity.
Lamenting in intricate layers that refused to form into proper speech, Lergen turned his bloodshot eyes back to the telegram.
He felt he had gotten everything he could get.
But it’s not enough?!
You’re saying it’s still not enough?!
“…I never imagined the day would come that I’d understand how Colonel von Degurechaff feels.”
It wasn’t a surprise that he respected her.
She was an outstanding magic officer.
She was the complete package as an officer, a soldier, and a modern intellectual, so that much made sense. She may have been warped, but he couldn’t deny his respect for her.
What shocked Lergen was his irritated remark that he sympathized with her complaints and confusion.
“…Why can’t they just put up with it?!”
It was a scream.
It was a lament.
And it was a wail.
“Why can’t they just accept things this way?!”
The Empire had invested too much iron and blood in this war. It was reaching the point that practically anyone with common sense could see that any more conflict was meaningless. These days had been nightmares—far too many precious lives, far too much capital, had melted away in an instant.
…And the light of a solution was gleaming only half a step in front of them.
“How am I supposed to get them to agree to these conditions?!”
It was right there. He had been transferred from the forward-most line in the east to the neutral country of Ildoa and waited anxiously for news of the victory for this chance!
It was because he had caught a whiff of the lingering scent of normalcy, which his home country had lost, in Ildoa, that he could claim it was worth swallowing the country’s high price for mediation, some dissatisfaction withstanding.
He understood how abnormal the war situation the Empire faced was whether he wanted to or not. Muster everything the nation had to offer and scatter it across the barren swamp-like earth?
What good would that do?
He wasn’t afraid to die for his fatherland, for his Heimat. But how many soldiers were they planning on sacrificing to fight over the Federation mud?
Lergen felt so ill that the ground seemed to sway. Dizzy, he leaned against the chair next to him.
The telegram’s message was clear.
We, the Imperial Army, were victorious on the eastern front. During negotiations, we defeated the Federation so thoroughly that the world gasped; it was both a tactical and operational victory. From a purely military perspective, it could probably be celebrated as a strategic victory as well.
The Imperial Army is now in a position to carry out fine attacks on the Federation’s major cities.
So now is the time to settle the discussion. That’s what Lergen thought, and it should have been a vision that not only those in the embassy but anyone in the army who had a grasp of the situation could share.
After getting a good look at the general situation on the eastern front, even a child could tell that they couldn’t continue winning for long. You didn’t have to be a monster of a little girl to understand that.
It was simple arithmetic.
The Imperial Army had committed millions of people to the eastern front, and there still weren’t enough. Just try expanding the lines as things stand. Even if they entrusted some of the military districts to local security organizations such as the Council for Self-Government, they could stretch only so far.
There were the vast occupied territories on the map—entirely too vast.
The Empire as a state didn’t have the strength to maintain them, and the Imperial Army didn’t have a plan.
“The General Staff knows that, but they still weren’t able to stop them?”
Was it the civil servants? Or some nonsense spouted by noble-born officers who were elite in rank only? Either way was no good.
Lergen’s mouth twisted into a frown, and he couldn’t help but utter curses.
This message, already difficult to comprehend, and its clamoring insistence that they could keep going was the product of something growing too large.
This is what you’re telling me? I’m supposed to just renegotiate at the drop of a hat?!
“Generals von Zettour and von Rudersdorf agreed to this?”
Well, they probably had no choice.
The Imperial Army had won.
No, they must have taken a chance. Under the circumstances, the usual methods wouldn’t have been enough to move the lines eastward in a major way.
…Saying there was no gamble would be a lie.
“Ha-ha-ha…it makes me laugh. So did you win your bet? Or did you win the game but lose the match?”
He knew this was going a bit far, but he thought it anyhow: It would be better if we had lost in the east. That was absolutely not the sort of thing an active-duty officer could say.
Stunned, clenching that absurd telegram, he couldn’t help but agonize. “We won on the eastern front. We won, so what’s going on? What exactly are these seeds we’ve sown?”
MAY 14, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, EASTERN FRONT, IMPERIAL ARMY, SALAMANDER KAMPFGRUPPE GARRISON
Apparently, the flow of a river really can make people sentimental.
Victory in battle, upcoming prospects—for Tanya, who has hope for a bright future and is leisurely enjoying plundered coffee with a splendid view of the water, it’s a fantastic morning.
Holding our current position until further orders come from the home country essentially means throwing ourselves into the usual building projects. Looking around, it’s the familiar scene of infantry digging foxholes, field engineers running communications cables, and anyone not busy with anything else filling sandbags.
So why does it look so radiant?
“…The seed of a dream where the people can hope for self-government, a buffer zone between the Empire and the Federation, a friendly neutral space. It’s probably safe to feel pretty good about the future.” With that quiet remark, her predictions cause her cheeks to relax into a smile.
When Tanya first joined the army, she had a pessimistic attitude, since there was no choice but to join. But look at her now, a proud member of a victorious nation.
No, that’s not it. Tanya shakes her head. Not yet. It hasn’t been decided yet. How shameless it would be to count her chickens before they hatch.
But still…
“Diplomatic negotiations, cease-fire, peace. Each step will be difficult to pull off—that hasn’t changed. But this victory was huge. If we can win in the west and in the east…” It would be a rare example of a successful two-front war. Tanya chuckles at the thought.
Dealing a severe blow to the nation’s primary enemy and securing even better terms than expected when imposing peace would…not be bad.
That’s a logical deduction. Rational analysis makes her confident that’s how it will go.
And since she has no idea what is going on far to the west, she can innocently go on believing.
Because she is ignorant, she continues smiling hopefully. “The Empire has sown its seeds. Ahhh, I can’t wait for the harvest. I’m not a fan of the source text, but as you sow, so shall you reap.”
(The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Volume 7: Ut Sementum Feceris, ita Metes, fin)