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War is an extension of politics.

Politics and business are just a piece of paper apart.

In the end, war and business are not much different.

Episode 11 – No Issues on the Northern Front

A permit to enter the North has been issued.

In fact, it was already a set matter that we were going to the northern region, but since we were here to support the Empire with a sizable military force, we couldn’t skip administrative procedures.

The Empire formally issued the permit.

The permit, issued in the name of the Military Government Headquarters, bore the signature of the Minister of Defense of the Empire.

As I rolled down the window, an officer in a combat uniform and full gear approached the driver’s side.

“Hello, which unit are you from?”

I handed the officer the document through the window. After examining the northern region entry permit signed by the Minister of Defense, the officer raised his hand to lift the barricade at the checkpoint.

Of course, just like the permit, the inspection was merely a pointless formality.

It was no surprise, given that journalists were gathered at the checkpoint leading into a military-controlled area.

As I grasped the steering wheel, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the farcical scene unfolding before me.

“It’s quite a show. What are they doing?”

“Indeed.”

The journalists were shoving magic recording devices towards the long line of vehicles in front of the checkpoint, while the propagandist officer from the Ministry of Defense struggled to manage the foreign correspondents along with an interpreter.

Jake was watching the propagandist officer covering the lens of a foreign journalist’s camera with his palm.

“What’s going on there? Why are they acting like that?”

“It seems they’re trying to prevent any filming. They probably got caught filming beyond the barbed wire.”

The foreign journalist was shouting something with a flushed face. Beyond the barbed wire marking the northern border stood a bunch of kids.

They looked like refugees.

Pippin, who slightly rolled down the window, stretched her neck to eavesdrop on the commotion between the foreign journalists and the propagandist officer.

“It seems they don’t want to show the refugees. They’re yelling that they shouldn’t be filming.”

Dictatorial states tend to be quick to hide their woes, such as the wealth gap and human rights abuses.

They thoroughly conceal problems within their borders while only highlighting the positives. Moreover, they wish to avoid any social issues being reported by foreign media, as it could damage the nation’s image. In dictatorships, the state is synonymous with the leader.

If the state’s image is damaged, then naturally, the dictator’s authority wanes as well. And dictators are people who cling to their authority more than anyone else.

So usually, when such situations arise, the heads of state also find themselves in hot water.

Of course, I didn’t care about that.

“Hey, shoot the checkpoint quickly.”

“Got it.”

We documented the entire sequence of entering the northern region. More precisely, we were following the order from the Military Intelligence Agency to gather all intel related to our entrance into the northern region.

The format of the entry permit, the condition of the roads, the level of checkpoint security, the number of troops if any, the distance between checkpoints, whether the barbed wire can be jumped over, whether there are mines, and so on.

Since there were likely no other personnel permitted to freely traverse the martial law imposed northern region besides us, it naturally fell to us to handle these simple tasks as well.

“Honestly, staff shortages are a problem.”

“I’m taking pictures of the checkpoint.”

“Okay.”

Jake pulled out the magic recording device and photographed the checkpoint. Surprisingly, he had a good eye for photography. When I asked why he was so adept at it, it turned out he had taken many photos during his special duty.

“Oh, I took a lot of pictures when I was in special ops. It was part of my info specialty.”

“Really? Don’t those who have served longer usually take pictures? The sergeants and lieutenants typically take better ones.”

“When they’re sleeping, it’s my turn to take the pictures. When we go on reconnaissance and take turns napping, I can’t wake someone just to take a picture.”

That’s how it was, apparently.

Jake’s skills shone through in the straightforward structure of the checkpoint he photographed.

The checkpoint, a rebar-concrete structure, consisted of two floors, with twelve soldiers stationed at each checkpoint.

The first floor, connected to the road, had a square-shaped concrete defensive wall, and soldiers on the first floor controlled the movement of vehicles and personnel.

On the flip side, soldiers on the second floor vigilantly watched for anyone trying to cross the barbed wire. A soldier leaned his rifle on the railing, carefully observing the barbed wire through binoculars.

For reference, a medium machine gun was installed on the corner railing of the checkpoint’s second floor.

… Facing north, not south.

“…….”

As I gazed at the medium machine gun pointed toward the sky, I felt a knot in my stomach and swallowed hard when Pippin in the back seat tapped my shoulder.

“Manager.”

“Yeah, what’s up, Pippin?”

“I created a document on the foreign dispatched troops. I took all the pictures; would you like to see them?”

While Jake was photographing the checkpoint, Pippin gathered information on the dispatches from pro-imperial dictatorial states. This too was part of the mission ordered to us by the Military Intelligence Agency.

Pippin pointed to the freshly printed photos as she began explaining.

“First of all, as you know, all units were dispatched from pro-imperial states. They’re all elite units with a tendency toward dictatorship, and some even brought their own elite guards.”

“The dictators sent their own elite guards?”

“Most of them received significant military aid from the Empire. Perhaps this was their way of repaying that.”

That much was true.

The Kien Empire generously provided support to countries friendly to it, especially in military aid.

The imperial military didn’t just provide equipment; they dispatched military advisors to personally impart their know-how.

However, considering that most of the countries receiving aid were dictatorships, it’s safe to say that the know-how was virtually imparted solely to the dictator’s elite guard or a select few elite units.

In that context, it could be seen that the dictators, despite their shortcomings, were doing their utmost to repay the Emperor’s grace by sending even the elite guards. They were proving their loyalty to the Empire and the royal family by sending their forces to protect the Emperor.

However,

“But it’s funny.”

“What’s funny about it?”

“Take a look at their equipment.”

I poked at the gear of the elite troops from the dictatorship in the photos.

What’s the word.

Honestly, it felt a bit off to say this to people squeezing every penny.

“Their equipment seems way too shabby.”

“…Ah, that’s definitely true.”

Their gear was woefully outdated.

No matter how poor a country is, their elite guards and forces would have massive budgets poured into them. It means they feed them well, dress them in quality gear, and polish them up for maintenance.

Yet, the so-called elite forces being dispatched looked no better than the standard imperial army, equipment-wise. To put it mildly, even the soldiers stationed at the checkpoint were better equipped. At least the checkpoint soldiers wore bulletproof vests.

“Regardless, coming without bulletproof vests feels odd. Didn’t they bring bulletproof vests?”

“Right? They have chest rigs, but I don’t see any bulletproof vests.”

“What a sight to see.”

I organized the photos and handed them back to Pippin. While Pippin was gathering the pictures, Charnoy, seated next to me, was tapping away at a secure terminal to compile documents.

“The secrets of Nymph, banging on the keyboard…!”

“…….”

I caught a glimpse of Charnoy fiercely typing away in the rearview mirror. I let out a deep sigh and shifted my gaze back outside.

… Is it really okay for us like this?

Of course, no one had an answer to that question.

Just then, I noticed the road leading north in the distance.

I pressed the accelerator, and the off-road SUV charged forward down the road.

*

The road to the North was not as far as I expected.

Contrary to the common belief that the ‘Frozen Land’, commonly referred to as ‘the Magic Territory’, would be extremely barren, the actual infrastructure in the Empire’s northern regions was quite developed.

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

From a military perspective, there are three key elements that lead a war to victory.

Information.

Communication.

Logistics.

Historically, armies that failed to gather intel on enemy forces generally lost. Admiral Yi Sun-sin achieved victory during the Imjin War due to thorough reconnaissance, and the Allied Forces won World War II by breaking through German and Japanese cipher systems.

Likewise, communication is also vital.

No matter how well you collect intel, if it’s only conveyed through messengers, you can’t win. In full-scale battles where massive armies clash, communication must underpin the movement of the forces as one cohesive unit.

That’s why the U.S. military actively adopted the C4I system for ease of battlefield management and command and control during the Cold War. They even advanced this further by creating systems like GCCS (Global Command Control System) and CPAS to share real-time information. For reference, the DIA, the intelligence agency of the U.S., manages this under its subsidiary divisions.

And lastly, there’s logistics.

There’s nothing more crucial in war than logistics. This has been a long-standing tradition since ancient times, and even in the seminal texts on warfare like “The Art of War” by Sun Tzu, it’s emphasized repeatedly.

Anyways.

In modern warfare, and indeed in all battlefields, nothing takes precedence over logistics.

The Empire wasn’t ignorant of this.

For the past several centuries, the imperial military has established a defense line throughout the northern regions to confront the Magic Territory, pouring vast sums of budget into supporting the north from the imperial family.

Thus, a massive breakwater was erected to protect the Empire on its naturally advantageous terrain. The strategic importance of the north undoubtedly applies to this day as well.

After all, the only official imperial relative guarding the north was the duke. Even considering the archmage, whom it would be a delight to keep within the royal family, being sent to the north speaks volumes about how the Emperor views this region.

But who had ever said that?

Building an empire takes a millennium, but bringing it down can happen in an instant.

My understanding of the solid socio-military infrastructure in the northern empire was shattered as soon as I stepped into the north.

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

After over five hours of driving, I was taken aback by the jammed road.

Led by the imperial troops from various regions, the cult, the Magic Tower, Abas, and foreign dispatched troops had been ascending north for hours along the road.

Yet suddenly, the road was at a standstill.

“What’s going on? Is this some cracked prank video?”

Peeking my head out, I spotted vehicles and trucks lined up in front and behind. The large convoy heading north had unexpectedly halted on the road.

I looked back to the subordinates in the passenger and back seats to explain the situation in the front lane.

“Hey, the road’s completely blocked. What the heck is going on?”

“The road is blocked?”

“Yeah.”

“That can’t be.”

Pippin, equally puzzled, checked the map of the Empire’s north.

The screen of the secure terminal used by the Military Intelligence Agency and the Abas Ministry of Defense displayed a map of the northern region, filled with information painstakingly accumulated by the information officer and operative responsible for the Kien Empire over the past five years.

After skimming through the multi-page report in an instant, Pippin raised her gaze and tilted her head.

“The map shows that we’re currently on a paved road. Apparently, the road was maintained by the Kien Ministry of Defense since the onset of the initial conflict, and it has been used exclusively for military purposes since the Military Government Headquarters was established.”

“So they kept maintaining it?”

“Yes, the data states so.”

I slightly opened the car door to check the condition of the road. The snow and dirt amalgamated to shine in a dull cacophony of colors; it was evident that this road was not one well-maintained, but more akin to a disaster-stricken national road.

Suddenly, memories of my trip to Russia came to mind. The roadway I saw back then was exactly at this level.

Upon checking the road condition, Jake closed the door and let out a deep sigh.

“This road is poorly maintained. What is this? Is that data really accurate?”

“Uh… turns out it was intel updated two years ago. Since they haven’t been able to collect anything since then, they probably left it unchanged.”

“Two years ago? This is so frustrating.”

The intelligence officer, Jake, seemed to be on the verge of a meltdown.

“Two years ago? Two years ago? You mean to tell me, we can’t even verify the condition of the road now, yet you want us to conduct operations in the north?”

Jake, hinting at desperation in his voice, drew Pippin’s attention.

Betting on a rough day ahead.

“What am I supposed to do about it? If you’re that upset, take it up with the higher-ups, or submit your discharge papers.”

“I heard they won’t even process those anymore.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. They say there aren’t enough people, so they’re not accepting discharge applications. Even seniors who applied two years ago are still waiting to get out.”

“Forget discharge; let’s focus on getting out of here, lieutenants.”

I told the three of them to wait in the car and stepped out. I had to see for myself what was causing the military road to be blocked.

Thud!

As soon as I jumped off the vehicle, mud splattered all over my shoes and pant legs. I was dressed in my formal attire for an event at the military government headquarters, but it got dirty in an instant.

“Ugh…”

As I tried to wipe the mud off the hem of my pants with a handkerchief while walking, I quickly gave up. Every step I took just splattered mud, making cleaning futile.

In the end, I had no choice but to move forward, accepting my pants would get dirty.

I trudged through the mire. Frustrated onlookers crowded the area, resembling a jam-packed roadway in Africa. I carefully navigated through the crowd to avoid getting more mud on me.

How long did I walk?

After quite a trek, I finally faced the cause of the roadblock.

A fallen tree was blocking the road.

“Whoa…”

I had seen large old trees blocking roads during overseas deployments, and this situation was strikingly similar.

Though it wasn’t huge, the fallen tree spanned the entire road, and a military truck was stuck, its wheels helplessly spinning on top of the log. Did it get caught trying to get over?

Seeing a group of about two squads working hard to clear the truck and log confirmed my suspicion.

I approached the cluster of soldiers, all of whom donned military uniforms, clearly from our Imperial Army.

“Excuse me.”

As I initiated the conversation in Abas, the soldiers turned to look at me. They quickly scanned me from head to toe, realized I wasn’t an Imperial soldier, and kindly responded.

“Uh… I can’t speak Abas.”

“…….”

What was I supposed to say to that?

An officer among the gathered soldiers awkwardly mumbled in broken Abas, “I can’t speak Abas.” His delivery was so choppy that it was hard to focus on the pronunciation itself.

The Imperial soldiers shared awkward glances, nudging each other and whispering, clearly in Kien.

“Look, it’s an Abas person.”

“Hey, can’t you speak Abas? Hurry up and explain.”

“I can’t do conversation. I’m not an interpreter.”

“Go get someone who can speak Abas. Quickly.”

“…….”

Thinking about it, it made sense that this area wouldn’t require learning a second foreign language. Unless you were a diplomat or businessman, there was little need to know Kien or Abas.

Still, I could communicate in Kien, so I was ready to ask questions, but just then, an interpreter arrived, so I held my tongue.

“Colonel, what brings you here?”

“Oh, Senior Lyudmila.”

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

This was my first official visit to the Empire, having only served within Abas before, so I was completely in the dark regarding the Imperial military’s circumstances.

Now that I was (forcibly) involved in a military operation, I couldn’t avoid communication issues.

I didn’t even know the military terms commonly used in the Empire. At least, that’s how it was publicly acknowledged.

“I came to check because the vehicle isn’t moving.”

“Oh, I see.”

After Lyudmila caught up with the officers and soldiers around her and listened to them, she translated their findings back to me in Abas. I had already grasped the situation, but I decided to pretend not to know and just go along.

The current situation turned out to be pretty much as I had imagined.

“So, to clear the log, we need to call in the engineers.”

“Yes.”

“To call the engineers, we need to retrieve equipment from the back, which will take a lot of time.”

“Yes.”

“Not wanting to waste time, we thought about how to tackle this issue and came up with the idea that, since the log is small enough, we could probably just drive the truck over it, and as a result, it got stuck trying to jump over?”

“Exactly.”

“…….”

“…….”

Lyudmila fell silent. It seemed even she found this approach too ridiculous to comment on.

As an awkward silence settled in, the older officer observing from the side asked Lyudmila if she had provided a good explanation.

Yeah, the explanation was clear.

Too clear, actually.

“Sigh…”

I let out a short sigh and decided to head back to my spot.

Staying here would yield no benefits, and it would take much longer to find another route north, so I simply had to wait for the Imperial engineers to clear the log.

Was this really right? That thought kept swirling in my head.

Despite my strong desire to turn around and head back to the capital, doing so was unfortunately not an option. Both the northbound and southbound lanes were filled with vehicles bound for the north.

Just as I sluggishly turned to head back, I spotted something odd.

“Hm?”

A woman was making her way through the crowd toward the truck. While that might seem ordinary, a closer look revealed it wasn’t a typical situation.

I cautiously approached her and whispered her name.

“Saint Lucia?”

“Oh, there you are!”

It was Lucia.

Dressed in garments that were active but still carried a religious air, Lucia stood in front of the truck caught on the log.

Against the gloomy sky and muddy sludge, Lucia’s figure stood out distinctly.

“What are you doing here? What about the others from the cult?”

“I saw the vehicle stalled for a while, so I thought I might come see if you needed help.”

“Ah, I see.”

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

“This truck got stuck trying to jump over the log. The soldiers are trying to push it, and they attempted to clear the log as well, but it won’t budge, so we are waiting.”

“That’s what happened.”

“I’m calling for the engineers now, so if you just wait a little, we’ll be on the move again. Let’s get you to the vehicle.”

I couldn’t just leave Lucia out in the chilly winter air, so I decided to guide her back to the vehicle. However, Lucia gently smiled and shook her head.

“It’s alright. I can return by myself. And maybe, I think I could help solve this problem.”

“You can actually clear a truck stuck on a log? Really?”

“Yes.”

Confidently responding, Lucia strode toward the truck. She bent down for a moment and got in position to grab the back of the truck with all her might.

Of course, no amount of effort would budge a couple of tons of truck. Moreover, now that I noticed, the cargo in the back was all ammunition. Given the weight of the ammo, there was absolutely no way Lucia could move that truck.

Anyone who had handled ammunition in the military would instantly agree, prompting the nearby soldiers to try and dissuade Lucia. If a child were trying something like that, you could chuckle at it, but this wasn’t a mere child; it was a saint of the cult.

Recognizing Lucia, the Imperial soldiers jumped back in shock and waved their hands, fearing the saint might injure herself—if that happened, all hell would break loose.

And then, something strange began to unfold.

“Hmm.”

After summoning her strength, Lucia stood up, and the truck began to shift little by little. Technically, the wheels were still on the ground, but the vehicle was starting to lift off the ground.

But it didn’t stop there.

As Lucia straightened up, she began to raise the bent knees, and the truck wheels started to soar into the air.

Around that time, both I and the soldiers who had tried to dissuade her halted everything we were doing and just stared at Lucia.

“???”

“???”

“???”

“Here we go.”

In the blink of an eye, the truck lifted off the ground and jumped over the log. Not stopping at that, Lucia gripped one side of the log, dragged it toward the side of the road, and tossed it close to the woods before returning.

At that moment, Veronica’s words from the magic tower sprung to mind—how Lucia possessed strength greater than she appeared to.

Where on Earth was that ‘greater than she appeared’ coming from?

“…….”

I was at a loss for words, gaping at the spectacle, and before long, Lucia was back on the road.

Having moved the truck and cleared the log, Lucia dusted off her hands as if she had just transported a handbag.

“Alright, all done. Let’s return to the vehicle.”

“…….”

“Aren’t you coming?”

“…Ah, yes. Let’s go.”

*

Despite all the chaos, our road trip to the north concluded in a day. We finally arrived in the northern capital.

The name of the area we reached was Novonikolaevsk.

While Petrogard served as the Empire’s capital, Novonikolaevsk was the administrative capital of the northern regions.

As the frontline responsible for the war against the demon realms and the main defense line, the north historically enjoyed a considerable level of autonomy.

Unlike a few regions that were merely ‘territories’ like the magically focused Nastassia and the long-independent Latwan Principality, Novonikolaevsk was granted a level of governance that differed entirely, according to Imperial standards.

We passed through the checkpoint into Novonikolaevsk just as the sun began to set.

The first impression of entering the administrative capital of the north was surprisingly understated.

“Dark.”

The city was engulfed in darkness. It wasn’t just that it was located at the extreme north, meaning the sun set earlier.

Novonikolaevsk was entirely shrouded in pitch-black darkness.

The once bright streetlights stood like dead trees, devoid of any bugs sticking to them, and the buildings that should have been brightening the end of the day and preparing for the coming morning were shrouded in darkness, lacking any visible light.

I carefully navigated the frozen icy roads, relying on the car’s headlights.

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

“Are they running blackout regulations or something?”

Pippin, who had been peering at the blue screen of the device in the dark vehicle, chimed in. Her white breath drifted into the vehicle’s interior.

“It seems they have. Reports indicate that the demon forces began air raids and implemented blackouts three years ago.”

“Is that from three years ago?”

“Yes, three years ago.”

Three years was a significant stretch of time. If an administrative capital governing the entire north had been under blackout for three whole years, you could only imagine how dire the situation was at the frontlines.

I shivered at the thought, rubbing my arms, and continued navigating the path.

At the center of Novonikolaevsk stood a military command center. Responsible for the defense of the north alongside the duke, it organized the northern military command—known as the ‘6th Army Corps Command Center.’

Of course, this command center was now referred to as the ‘Military Government Headquarters’ instead of the ‘6th Army Corps Command Center.’

To put it more simply, it could be called the ‘Martial Law Command Center.’

After parking the vehicle closest to the main gate, I turned off the engine and addressed my team.

“Let’s disembark.”

We were about to enter the command center that governed the entire northern region.

 

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