The Saga of Tanya the Evil Volume 9

That was a luxury that the Empire could only dream of at this point. A
well-trained soldier was more valuable than gold.

“The only saving grace is that they lack real combat experience.”
On the battalion level, they were tight. They may not have had the combat
experience, but they were apparently incorporating the lessons learned from
studying the current war. Training—that is, the right training—could far
surpass “simple” combat experience.
That is: They weren’t sending military observers all over the place for no
reason.
“Then our invasion will have to be literally lightning fast,” the general
grumbled.
A casual remark.
But the head of Operations had just said the word invasion. The
significance was overwhelming. Is that what you’re thinking of, General?
Before he knew it, he had a thought that made his face stiffen.
“It’s not as if I’m for an invasion.”
“Then what, sir?”
The general’s eyes stopped on Lergen, containing a dangerous gleam.
“An army needs to have a plan; it needs to be able to act on assumptions.
It’s only with a concrete goal that we can expect soldiers to carry out
missions. Am I wrong, Colonel Lergen?”
“No, sir, it’s as you say.”
As he apologized for his rudeness, he felt a strange chill.
“That said, this problem will take some consideration. We’ll need to give
it some more thought later on. Thanks, Colonel Lergen.”
“It was nothing, sir. I’ll be going, then.”
“Colonel, one last thing.”
Lergen had stood up and was about to leave the room when Rudersdorf
casually lobbed a bomb at his back.
“We’ll see what happens with Ildoa, but in the meantime, have the Lergen
Kampfgruppe conduct a topographical survey, just in case.”
“…Understood.”
As he saluted and took his leave, what was going through his mind?
Resignation? Despair? No, don’t jump to conclusions. Lergen shook his head
as he walked down the hall of the General Staff Office.
A topographical survey. That was a general instruction that on its own

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carried no implication of an attack. But Lergen saw the implication no matter
how he tried to avert his eyes.

Bringing a combat unit in at this juncture seems awfully significant. That
was what occupied his mind all along the way back to his desk.

Of course, committing research to paper and actual combat were two very
different things. He took a cigarette out of his desk and lit it as he grumbled.
“Someone in a position like the general would never approve a poorly
planned invasion of Ildoa.”

His comments to himself melted into his office.
“…At least, they shouldn’t,” Lergen spat limply, but then he shook his
head.
Lieutenant General Zettour, Lieutenant General Rudersdorf—both of the
deputy heads of staff he served were staff officers with excellent pedigrees.
They were by no means so rash as to pull the trigger of a fully automated
suicide device.
Ildoa is essential as an intermediary in order to end the war with terms.
They had to end the war. If war was becoming an end instead of a means,
they were putting the cart before the horse. I see—fair-weather friends are
rather unpleasant. You start to question their sincerity as well as the
relationship itself.
But in the end, it was only a friendship between states.
A bond of steel, light yet stronger than anything, and only formed when
interests align. National interest, raison d’état—in the end, any decent person
would find it revolting. Such was the banal evil of organizations.
“…A state has no perpetual enemies and no eternal allies. O Lord, let
there be as many allies as possible for the fatherland.”
A prayer. Sadly, he doubted whether it would get through.
It was the same old story. Enemies had to be defeated. Obviously, it
would be preferable to have fewer of them. The reckless Stone Age bravery
of seeking out enemies was not desirable in this century.
But someone in Rudersdorf’s position had been forced to at least entertain
a blitzkrieg invasion of Ildoa, even if it was only talk—that was the reality
the Empire was facing.
Nobody told me it would be like this.
A soldier’s duty was to avoid politics. Lergen himself, though a decent
individual by his own measure, had racked up enough experience as an

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instrument of an evil organization that it made him sick, but…in the end, he
was still in a subordinate role.

Now, surprisingly, this colonel in the Imperial Army, Lergen, was
beginning to feel an interest in politics stirring in his breast.

It beat in his chest with an echoing ba-bum, ba-bum.
Imperial soldiers were taught from the very beginning that this should be
suppressed at every turn. The lesson had been beaten into him so often that it
had long been internalized as one of his values. So the emotional voice in his
mind screamed its appeals.
“…What should I do?”
But his mind, his reason pressed on, throwing off the emotional restraints.
His brain cried out, If the politicians are wrong, then perhaps it’s the army’s
—nay, the soldiers’ duty to correct them.
And he couldn’t continue to ignore this strange, ceaseless current. The
atmosphere in the General Staff Office justified a qualm or two.
Nor could he feign ignorance of his superiors’ thought processes. There
was a limit to these things.
“…Plan B?”
How wretched it felt to be the one who had failed to carry out Plan A. He
wanted to leave Plan B as Plan B forever. So he couldn’t help but feel there
was some hope in that direction.
“We stand with God? And we’re meant to charge forth as he wishes?
Without realizing our best chance has already come and gone, we continued
believing an appropriate ending would be bestowed on us, and yet this is
what we get?”
There should have been an escape route.
Open sesame.
The art of war that had been witnessed on the Rhine front was
unforgettable. They had lured in the enemy field army and literally ripped
them out by the roots.
The peace that followed the neutralization of the enemy field army was
something the Empire had dreamed of, longed for, and thirsted for ever since
its founding had been only a step away.
…Now, Lergen couldn’t help but feel like that was ancient history.
He had believed they could win the war.
Back then, it had even been possible to think about a time “after the war.”

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Where and how did things end up so horrible?!
“If you know the eastern front, you understand. Hell begets hell. Nothing

is shocking in total war. What a fate! We’re stuck harvesting the seeds we
sowed.”

Iron and blood.
Though they originated with the founding of the country, the quantity was
woefully inadequate for saving the fatherland from this great war. Young
people—human beings with bright, promising futures—were turned into
statistics and casualty numbers; pouring the nation’s strength into this
conflict was as foolish as heaving it away with great abandon straight into the
muddy lands of the Federation.
And it still wasn’t enough.
It was hard to believe, but war, this greedy monster, having swallowed up
every last one of the Heimat’s youths, continued to scream that it wasn’t
satisfied. How about that for an unpleasant reality? Battle lines extending
without end, the continuous sowing of despair, and the horror of a world that
continued to betray every expectation.
To think this would happen—to think the world would enter such an age!
Who could have seen this coming? During the Norden conflict, who
besides one little girl even spared it more than a passing thought? Who would
have guessed that this nightmare, this madness, was about to snowball out of
control?
“…Be ready for whatever may happen. That’s a soldier’s job. I made a
vow to the fatherland and the emperor, so it’s my duty. I must do my duty.”
If you spelled it out, that’s exactly what it meant to be an officer.
Lergen himself was an outstanding cog—and nothing but a cog. But when
it was unforgivable to remain a mere piece of the machinery, did the demands
of his duty change?
“…Will I be forgiven if I remain as I am? What is the optimal route to
carrying out my—no, our duty?”
The aiguillette he wore marked him as a staff officer. He had to fulfill his
duty. But what duty was that? Was it a soldier’s duty to get involved in
politics? Was it his duty to remain silent as a “mere” staff officer?
It would be easy to make the excuse that the context had changed. But
duty itself would haunt him eternally. He didn’t know what it was he was
supposed to do, but the responsibility he felt toward doing it tormented him.

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Ahhh, damn it all.
Do I have to take the plunge into politics despite being a soldier? Or am I
supposed to remain silent in the face of the politicians and their agonizing
cluelessness?
Both choices were the worst. Not the worst and the second worst. They
were both absolute shit.
“I’m supposed to choose? I…have to choose?”
When he glanced at the window, a sour face appeared. A haunting face.
He was frowning as if he were the most unfortunate man in the world.
It was his own reflection floating in the glass, but even knowing that, he
found it utterly shameful.
I look exhausted. As an officer, I’m meant to set an example, to put on a
brave front in the face of adversity, but…I guess I can’t scrounge up what
simply isn’t there.
Smile.
He ordered the muscles in his face to obey, but he didn’t have the energy
to laugh at the ludicrousness even if he wanted to.
“What path will lead to the sun rising again tomorrow?”
He responded to his own words with a cynical jab.
“…Will it even?”
He asked and answered his own question.
There isn’t a soul who doesn’t hope daybreak will come. But will it? We’ll
see the sun tomorrow. And probably next month. And even a year from now,
we should be able to manage it.
But what comes after that?
Where is the Empire headed?
Are we sure it’s not night that waits for us?
“…Pessimism? No wonder the staffer curriculum drilled into us that it’s
taboo.”
Peering into the window glass, he saw an absolutely haggard face. It was
just so awful looking. Heading toward the night made him feel incredibly
uneasy.
“…Night, huh? The horror. But who among us can escape the night?”

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(The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 9: Omnes una Manet Nox, fin)

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Afterword

Good day, hello, good evening. It’s Carlo Zen.
Could it be that you have purchased all nine volumes of The Saga of

Tanya the Evil at once? If so, may your future be happy. And to everyone
else who graces me with your continued patronage, you have my usual
gratitude.

Time moves fast, but in the great flow of history, a few months might as
well be a butterfly’s dream.

It’s nearly impossible to believe, but anyway, as it stands, I can say with
confidence that I managed to basically put out Volume 9 in the fall, right?

Come to think of it, things turned out just as I, deeply committed as I am,
announced they would last June. Apologies again for the drama of being late.

The main silver lining is that I’m able to report that an all-new feature-
length anime film is in production. I’ve been incredibly busy with that…so
you see, it makes for a nice excuse.

To think The Saga of Tanya the Evil will be entering movie theaters… I
can hardly believe it, but it is my intention to work hard so as not to bring
shame upon the genre of works that feature magic + girl + skies.

Of course, getting this far was only possible with the energy of a great
many people. This book was no exception, as I received lots of help.

To illustrator Shinobu Shinotsuki, the designers at Tsubakiya Design, the
proofreaders at Tokyo Publishing Service, my editors Fujita and Tamai,
thank you.

And to you readers who are patient with me when I’m late, my apologies
and gratitude. There are so many things I’d like to talk about, like the
upcoming movie, but please forgive me if I omit those thoughts this time due
to space constraints and various life happenings.

I’m sure I’ll make a fuss when there is more to report. I hope you’ll
warmly follow that progress.

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Hope to see you next time.

January 2018 Carlo Zen

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1 élan vital An esprit de corps that is a major element of the French Army’s doctrine.

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