Ch.201Episode 11 – All Quiet on the Northern Front

# War is an extension of politics.

Politics and business are separated by a mere sheet of paper.

In the end, war and business aren’t all that different.

## Episode 11 – All Quiet on the Northern Front

A permit to enter the northern region has been issued.

While our journey to the northern region was already confirmed, we still couldn’t skip the administrative procedures, given our position as representatives arriving with a large military force to support the Empire.

The Empire provided us with permits, if only as a formality.

The permit, issued under the authority of the Military Government Command, bore the signature of the Empire’s Minister of Defense.

As I lowered the window, an officer in well-fitted combat uniform and military gear approached the driver’s side.

“Welcome. Which unit are you with?”

I handed the documents through the window to the officer. After examining the northern region entry permit bearing the Defense Minister’s signature, he raised his hand to signal for the checkpoint barricade to be lifted.

Of course, like the permit itself, the checkpoint was merely an unnecessary formality.

This was evident from the journalists who had gathered around the checkpoint leading to a militarily controlled area.

Gripping the steering wheel, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the comedy unfolding before my eyes.

“What a show they’re putting on. What’s the point of all this?”

“I was wondering the same thing.”

Journalists pointed their magical recording devices at the line of vehicles waiting at the checkpoint, while public affairs officers from the Imperial Defense Ministry, accompanied by interpreters, struggled to control the foreign press.

Jake observed a public affairs officer blocking a foreign journalist’s camera with his palm.

“What’s that about? Why are they doing that?”

“Seems like someone filmed something they weren’t supposed to. Probably got caught photographing beyond the fence.”

The foreign journalist was shouting with a flushed face. Beyond the fence that stretched along the northern border stood some small children.

They appeared to be refugees.

Pippin, who had slightly lowered his window, stretched his neck to hear the argument between the foreign journalists and the public affairs officers.

“They don’t want to show the refugees. I can hear them yelling about not taking pictures.”

Dictatorships are typically desperate to hide their flaws—wealth inequality, human rights abuses, and so on.

They meticulously conceal their internal problems while emphasizing only their strengths. And they certainly don’t want foreign media reporting on social issues that might damage the nation’s image. In a dictatorship, the nation is synonymous with its leader.

When the nation’s image suffers, the dictator’s authority naturally diminishes. And dictators are obsessed with maintaining their authority above all else.

In such situations, those responsible for the damage often lose their heads as well.

Of course, I couldn’t care less about any of that.

“Hey, take pictures of the checkpoint, quickly.”

“Yes, sir.”

We documented the entire process of entering the northern region. More specifically, we were under orders from Military Intelligence to collect all intelligence related to northern region access.

The format of entry permits, road conditions, checkpoint security levels, troop numbers if any, the distance between checkpoints, whether the fence could be jumped over, whether there were landmines or not, and so on.

Since we were the only employees who could freely enter the northern region under martial law, we naturally ended up handling these simple tasks as well.

“Staff shortage is always the problem.”

“I’ll take pictures of the checkpoint, sir.”

“Go ahead.”

Jake took out a magical recording device and photographed the checkpoint. Surprisingly, Jake was quite skilled at photography. When I asked why he was so good at taking pictures despite it seeming out of character:

“I took a lot of photos when I was in Special Forces, sir. It was my specialty in intelligence.”

“Really? I thought that was usually done by senior non-commissioned officers who’ve served longer. They always seemed better at it than lieutenants and captains.”

“I had to take pictures when they were sleeping. During reconnaissance, we’d take turns napping, and I couldn’t wake someone up just to take a photo.”

That’s what he said.

Demonstrating his youthful skills, Jake captured the simple structure of the checkpoint.

The reinforced concrete checkpoint was two stories high, with 12 personnel stationed at each post.

The first floor, connected to the road, had square concrete defensive walls, with personnel controlling the movement of vehicles and people.

In contrast, the personnel on the second floor were watching for anyone trying to cross the fence. A soldier with a rifle leaning against the railing was carefully examining the fence through binoculars.

Notably, a medium machine gun was mounted on the corner railing of the second floor.

…Pointing north, not south.

“…”

As I grimaced at the sight of the machine gun pointing skyward, Pippin tapped my shoulder from the back seat.

“Section Chief.”

“Yes, what is it, Pippin?”

“I’ve compiled information on the foreign expeditionary forces. I’ve taken all the photos—would you like to see them?”

While Jake was photographing the checkpoint, Pippin had been preparing documentation on the troops dispatched by pro-Imperial dictatorships. This was also one of the orders Military Intelligence had given us.

Pippin pointed to the freshly printed photos and began his explanation.

“As you know, these are all troops from pro-Imperial countries. They’re all elite units with characteristics of personal guards, and some have even brought their dictators’ personal guards along.”

“The dictators sent their own personal guards?”

“Most of them have received substantial military aid from the Empire. Perhaps this is their way of showing gratitude?”

That was true.

The Kiyen Empire generously provided aid to countries friendly to the Empire.

The most prominent form of this aid was military assistance. The Imperial military not only donated equipment but also dispatched military advisory groups to personally transfer their expertise.

However, considering that most aid recipients were dictatorships, it’s fair to say that this expertise was only transferred to the dictators’ personal guards or a few elite units.

In that context, the dictators who sent even their limited personal guards were making a desperate effort to repay the Emperor’s favor. It showed their loyalty to the Empire and the Imperial Family, sending troops meant to protect themselves.

However,

“This is funny.”

“What is?”

“Look at their equipment.”

I tapped on the military gear of the elite units from the dictatorships captured in the photos.

Well, how should I put this…

It feels a bit harsh to say this about people who’ve stretched their limited resources, but…

“Their equipment seems really subpar.”

“…Yes, I see what you mean.”

The equipment was terrible.

Even in poor countries, personal guards and elite forces receive massive investment. They’re well-fed, well-dressed, and meticulously maintained.

But looking at these supposedly elite expeditionary forces, their equipment quality was universally inferior to the Empire’s regular troops. With slight exaggeration, one could say that even the checkpoint guards we just met were better equipped. At least the checkpoint personnel wore body armor.

“I can’t believe they’re not even wearing body armor. Didn’t they bring any?”

“It seems not. They’re wearing chest rigs, but no body armor in sight.”

“Unbelievable.”

I neatly stacked the photos and handed them back to Pippin. While Pippin was putting away the photos, Charnoi, sitting next to me, was typing away on a secure terminal, creating a document.

“The nymph’s secret: furious typing…!”

“…”

I could see Charnoi frantically typing through the rearview mirror. I sighed once and turned my gaze to look out the window.

…Are we really going to be okay like this?

Of course, there was no one to answer that question.

Just then, the road leading north came into view in the distance.

I stepped on the accelerator, and the off-road SUV surged forward along the road.

*

The journey to the north wasn’t as far as expected.

Contrary to the common perception that it would be extremely barren due to its proximity to the “Frozen Land,” colloquially known as the “Demon Realm,” the infrastructure in the Empire’s northern region was actually quite developed.

Traditionally, demons have been enemies of the Empire, or rather, of humanity.

And from a military perspective, three factors lead to victory in war:

Intelligence.

Communication.

Supply.

Historically, armies that failed to gather intelligence about enemy forces generally lost. Admiral Yi Sun-sin gained the upper hand during the Japanese invasions of Korea thanks to thorough reconnaissance, and the Allies won World War II because they broke the German and Japanese encryption systems.

Similarly, communication is crucial.

No matter how well you gather intelligence about the enemy, you can’t win if you’re only relaying information by messenger. In a full-scale war with field armies clashing, a massive military force must move as one body, which requires solid communication support.

That’s why the U.S. military has actively adopted C4I systems since the Cold War to facilitate battlefield management and command control. Going further, the U.S. military created systems like GCCS (Global Command Control System) and CPAS to share information in real-time. Incidentally, these are managed by a division under the DIA, the U.S. military intelligence agency.

And the final factor: supply.

Nothing is more important in war than supply. This tradition has continued since ancient times and is extensively explained in essential military texts like “The Art of War” and “On War.”

In any case.

In modern warfare—indeed, in any battlefield—nothing takes precedence over supply.

The Empire understood this well.

For hundreds of years, the Imperial military formed defensive lines across the northern region while facing off against the Demon Realm, and the Imperial Family poured enormous resources into supporting the north.

Thus, a massive bulwark protecting the Empire was built upon naturally advantageous terrain. And the strategic importance of the north naturally applies in modern times as well.

The fact that the Empire’s only official Imperial branch family was a Grand Duke protecting the north speaks volumes. Sending a Grand Magician who should be treasured within the Imperial Family to the north clearly demonstrated how the Emperor viewed the region. Explaining it further would be a waste of breath.

But as someone once said:

Building an empire may take a thousand years, but an empire can collapse in an instant.

My preconceptions about the solid social and military infrastructure of the Empire’s north were shattered as soon as we entered the region.

“What’s this? Why is the road blocked?”

After driving for over five hours, I was bewildered by the congested road.

Imperial military forces from various regions, along with the Church, the Magic Tower, Abas, and foreign expeditionary units, had been traveling northward for hours.

But suddenly, the road was blocked.

“What’s going on? Is this some kind of prank?”

Peeking out to look through the window, I saw vehicles and trucks lined up ahead and behind us. The large convoy heading north had unexpectedly come to a standstill on the road.

I turned to my subordinates in the passenger and back seats to explain the situation ahead.

“Hey, the road is completely blocked. What the hell is going on?”

“The road is blocked?”

“Yeah.”

“That can’t be right.”

Pippin, equally perplexed, checked the map of the Empire’s northern region.

The secure terminal used by Military Intelligence and the Abas Defense Ministry displayed a map of the entire northern region, densely annotated with information collected over the past five years by intelligence officers and operatives assigned to the Kiyen Empire.

After quickly scanning through pages of reports, Pippin looked up with a puzzled expression.

“According to the map, our current location should be a paved road. It’s been maintained by the Kiyen Defense Ministry since the beginning of the conflict, and since the Military Government Command was established, it’s been used exclusively for military purposes.”

“So they’ve been maintaining it continuously?”

“Yes. That’s what the data indicates.”

I slightly opened the car door to check the road condition. The road, a dreary mix of snow and dirt shining in a dull natural color, was clearly not a well-maintained paved road but more like a severely damaged national highway.

It reminded me of my deployment to Russia. The roads there were exactly like this.

Jake, who had also checked the road condition, closed the door and sighed deeply.

“Maintenance, my ass. They haven’t maintained it at all. Is that information even accurate?”

“Um… checking now, this intelligence was last updated two years ago. I guess they haven’t been able to collect new data since then.”

“Two years ago? You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Jake, our military intelligence officer, started to have a fit. He seemed to be having a meltdown.

“Two years ago? Two years ago? How are we supposed to conduct operations in the north when we can’t even get accurate information about the road conditions?”

Hearing Jake’s seemingly desperate lament, Pippin scratched his ear and retorted:

“What do you want me to do about it? If you’re upset, complain to higher-ups or submit a discharge request.”

“I heard they’re not approving those these days.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They’re so short-staffed that they’re not accepting discharge applications. Even seniors who applied two years ago are still waiting for their discharge.”

“Forget about discharges. Let’s focus on getting out of here first, lieutenants.”

I told the three to wait in the car and got out. I needed to see for myself what was causing this military road to be congested.

Splash!

As soon as I jumped out of the car, mud splattered all over my shoes and the hem of my pants. I had dressed in formal attire since we needed to visit the Military Government Command before starting our actual activities, but it was instantly soiled.

“Ah…”

I tried to wipe the mud off the hem of my pants with a handkerchief as I walked, but soon gave up. Mud splashed with every step, making cleaning futile.

I had to accept that my pants would get dirty and move forward.

I trudged through the mud, advancing forward. People who couldn’t wait any longer had come out to see what was happening, crowding the road. It reminded me of a congested city street in Africa. I carefully pushed through the crowd, trying to avoid getting more mud on myself.

After walking for some time, I finally encountered the cause of the traffic jam.

A fallen tree was blocking the road.

“Wow…”

I’ve occasionally seen fallen old trees blocking roads during foreign deployments. This situation was exactly like that.

Although not particularly large, the fallen tree blocked the entire road, and an Imperial military truck was pathetically spinning its wheels on top of the log. Had it tried to drive over it and gotten stuck?

Seeing about two squads of personnel struggling to move the truck and the log, my guess seemed correct.

I approached a group of soldiers who were watching the Imperial troops trying to move the truck. Judging by their uniforms, they were also Imperial soldiers.

“Excuse me.”

When I spoke in Abas, the soldiers turned to look at me. They quickly scanned me up and down, realized I wasn’t an Imperial soldier, and responded politely.

“I… no speak… Abas.”

“…”

What am I supposed to do with that?

The Imperial officer spoke broken Abas, saying “I don’t speak Abas” in a stiff, choppy manner.

The Imperial soldiers awkwardly nudged each other and whispered among themselves. In Kiyen, of course.

“It’s an Abas person.”

“Hey, don’t you know how to speak Abas? Explain quickly.”

“I can’t speak conversational Abas. I’m not an interpreter officer.”

“Go find someone who can speak Abas. Hurry.”

“…”

Come to think of it, people in this region didn’t need to learn a second language. Unless they were diplomats or businesspeople, there was no real need to learn Kiyen or Abas.

Still, I could speak Kiyen, so I was about to ask my questions, but an interpreter arrived, making it unnecessary for me to speak up.

“Sir, what can I help you with?”

“Ah, Senior Lieutenant Lyudmila.”

Lyudmila was the interpreter officer assigned to me by the Imperial Defense Ministry.

Officially, this was my first visit to the Empire, and officially, I had only served within Abas, so I was known to be unfamiliar with Imperial military affairs.

And having been (forcibly) involved in military operations, I naturally had communication issues.

I didn’t even know the military terminology used within the Empire. At least, that’s what was officially known.

“I came to check why the vehicles weren’t moving.”

“Ah, I see.”

Senior Lieutenant Lyudmila grabbed a nearby officer and soldier, inquired about the situation, and then translated it into Abas for me. I had already overheard what was happening, but I decided to pretend I didn’t know.

And the current situation wasn’t far from what I had expected.

“So to remove the log, they need to call for engineers.”

“Yes.”

“But to call for engineers, they’d need to bring equipment from the back of the convoy, which would take a lot of time.”

“Yes.”

“Not wanting to waste time, they were considering how to solve this problem.”

“Yes.”

“Since the log was relatively small, they thought they could drive the truck over it, but they failed and now the truck is stuck?”

“Exactly.”

“…”

“…”

Senior Lieutenant Lyudmila couldn’t continue. The situation seemed too absurd even to her.

As an awkward silence fell, creating a strange atmosphere, an older-looking officer among those watching asked Lyudmila if she had explained everything properly.

Yes, the explanation was fine.

Too fine, actually. That’s the problem.

“Haah…”

I sighed briefly and was about to return to my position.

There was no point in staying here, and the next alternative route north was quite far away, so we had no choice but to wait until the Imperial engineers cleared the log.

Is this really the right approach? That thought kept circling in my mind.

I desperately wanted to turn the car around and head back to the capital right now, but unfortunately, that was impossible. Both the northbound and southbound lanes were filled with vehicles trying to go north.

As I was trudging back dejectedly, I witnessed a strange scene.

“Hmm?”

A woman was pushing through the crowd, approaching the truck. This might have seemed normal at first glance, but upon closer inspection, it was anything but ordinary.

I carefully moved toward the woman and quietly called her name.

“Saint Lucia?”

“Ah, there you are.”

It was Lucia.

Dressed in clothes that looked practical yet had religious elements, Lucia stood in front of the truck stuck on the log.

Perhaps it was because she was standing against the gloomy sky and dirty mud, but Lucia’s figure stood out remarkably.

“What are you doing here? Where are the Church people?”

“I saw that the cars had stopped for a while. I thought someone might need help, so I came out.”

“Ah, I see.”

I pointed to the Imperial truck and explained the current situation to Lucia.

“This truck tried to drive over the log but got stuck. The soldiers have tried pushing the truck and removing the log, but nothing’s budged, so they’re just waiting now.”

“I see.”

“They’ve called for engineers, so we should be able to move again soon. Let’s go back to the vehicle. I’ll escort you.”

I couldn’t let Lucia stand in the cold winter wind, so I decided to guide her back to the vehicle. But Lucia gently smiled and shook her head.

“It’s fine. I can get back on my own. And perhaps I can solve this problem.”

“You can remove the truck stuck on the log? Is that really possible?”

“Yes.”

Confidently answering, Lucia strode toward the truck. She bent her knees slightly, then grabbed the back of the truck and assumed a posture as if she was about to exert force.

Of course, a truck weighing several tons wouldn’t move just because she tried. Moreover, looking at the cargo bed now, it was full of ammunition. Considering the weight of the ammunition, Lucia absolutely could not move the truck.

This was a fact anyone who had handled ammunition in the military would understand, so people around tried to stop Lucia. If it were a child doing this, it might be dismissed as cute antics, but the person trying to lift the truck wasn’t a mischievous kid but a saint of the Church.

The Imperial soldiers who recognized Lucia were startled and frantically waved their hands in protest. If the saint were to get injured, there would be serious consequences.

But then, something strange began to unfold.

“…Hup.”

As Lucia, who had taken a deep breath, straightened her back, the truck began to move slightly. To be precise, while the wheels were still on the ground, the vehicle started to rise into the air.

And it didn’t end there.

As Lucia, who had straightened her back, began to straighten her bent knees, the truck’s wheels started to lift off the ground.

Around that time, I and the soldiers who had been watching Lucia stopped what we were doing and just stared at her.

“???”

“???”

“???”

“Heave-ho.”

The truck, now airborne, instantly cleared the log. Not stopping there, Lucia grabbed one end of the log and dragged it to the roadside near the forest, then tossed it aside before returning.

At that moment, I suddenly remembered what Veronica had said at the Magic Tower. That Lucia was stronger than she looked.

How is that just “stronger than she looks”?

“…”

As I stood there, unable to say anything and blankly staring into space, Lucia had already returned to the road.

After moving the truck and clearing the log, Lucia dusted off her hands as if she had just moved a small bag.

“There, that’s done. Shall we go back to the car?”

“…”

“…Aren’t you coming?”

“…Ah, yes. Let’s go.”

*

Despite many words and troubles, our road trip to the north ended in just one day. We had finally arrived at the provincial capital of the north.

The name of the region we arrived in was Novonikolayevsk.

If Petrograd is the capital of the Empire, then Novonikolayevsk is the administrative capital of the Empire’s northern region.

The north, being the frontline and defense line responsible for the war against the Demon Realm, has historically been granted a significant level of autonomy.

Unlike some territories that are autonomous in name only, like Nastasiya’s Magic Tower, which dreams of independence year-round, or the Latuan Principality, which gained independence early on, Novonikolayevsk enjoyed a different level of free governance. By Imperial standards, that is.

We passed through the checkpoint of Novonikolayevsk as the sun was setting.

My first impression upon entering the administrative capital of the north was rather plain.

“It’s dark.”

The city was shrouded in darkness. This wasn’t just because it was located in the far north where the sun sets early.

Novonikolayevsk was entirely plunged into pitch-black darkness.

The street lamps that should have been shining brilliantly stood like dead old trees, with not even insects attracted to them. Buildings that should have been brightly lit as they wrapped up the day and prepared for the coming morning were so dark that one couldn’t see inside.

Relying on the car’s headlights, I carefully navigated the frozen, icy road.

At least the lights from the convoy of vehicles made it possible to move forward.

“Are they under a blackout order?”

Pippin, who was looking at the blue screen of his terminal in the dark car, spoke up. His white breath spread throughout the vehicle’s interior.

“It seems that way. It says here that they implemented a blackout when the demons started air raids.”

“How old is that information?”

“Three years old.”

Three years is a considerable time. If the administrative capital that governs the entire north and commands the army has been under a blackout for three years, one can only imagine what the frontlines must be like.

I rubbed away the goosebumps that were rising and slowly drove the vehicle.

In the center of Novonikolayevsk was a military headquarters. It was the “6th Military District Command,” responsible for the defense of the north along with the Grand Duke and commanding the northern military district.

Of course, this headquarters is currently known not as the “6th Military District Command” but as the “Military Government Command.”

To put it more directly, it could be called the “Martial Law Command.”

After parking the vehicle as close as possible to the main gate, I turned off the engine and said to the team members:

“Let’s get out.”

Now we need to enter the headquarters that commands the entire northern region.