The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 11: Alea Iacta Est, page 1
Copyright
The Saga of Tanya the Evil, Vol. 11
Carlo Zen
Translation by Richard Tobin
Cover art by Shinobu Shinotsuki
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is coincidental.
YOJO SENKI Vol. 11 Alea Iacta Est
©Carlo Zen 2019
First published in Japan in 2019 by KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo.
English translation rights arranged with KADOKAWA CORPORATION, Tokyo through TUTTLE-MORI AGENCY, INC., Tokyo.
English translation © 2022 by Yen Press, LLC
Yen Press, LLC supports the right to free expression and the value of copyright. The purpose of copyright is to encourage writers and artists to produce the creative works that enrich our culture.
The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book without permission is a theft of the author’s intellectual property. If you would like permission to use material from the book (other than for review purposes), please contact the publisher. Thank you for your support of the author’s rights.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Zen, Carlo, author. | Shinotsuki, Shinobu, illustrator. | Balistrieri, Emily, translator. | Steinbach, Kevin, translator. | Tobin, Richard, translator.
Title: Saga of Tanya the evil / Carlo Zen ; illustration by Shinobu Shinotsuki ; translation by Emily Balistrieri, Kevin Steinbach
Other titles: Yōjo Senki. English
Description: First Yen On edition. | New York : Yen ON, 2017–
Identifiers: LCCN 2017044721 | ISBN 9780316512442 (v. 1 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316512466 (v. 2 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316512480 (v. 3 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316560627 (v. 4 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316560696 (v. 5 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316560719 (v. 6 : pbk.) | ISBN 9780316560740 (v. 7 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975310493 (v. 8 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975310868 (v. 9 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975310523 (v. 10 : pbk.) | ISBN 9781975310547 (v. 11 : pbk.)
Classification: LCC PL878.E6 Y6513 2017 | DDC 895.63/6—dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017044721
ISBNs: 978-1-9753-1054-7 (paperback)
978-1-9753-1055-4 (ebook)
E3-20221102-JV-NF-ORI
Contents
Cover
Insert
Title Page
Copyright
Chapter I: Create a Rift
Chapter II: Memoir
Chapter III: The Incident
Chapter IV: Turning Point
Chapter V: Stage
Chapter VI: Impact
Appendixes: Diplomatic Relations Charts
Afterword
Yen Newsletter
[chapter] I Create a Rift
SEPTEMBER 25, UNIFIED YEAR 1927, GENERAL ZETTOUR’S OFFICE AT THE EASTERN FRONT ARMY HEADQUARTERS
“I read through the preliminary version of Plan B. And I have to ask… Are you insane? It reads like spur-of-the-moment gambling notes you scribbled on the back of a napkin.”
Despite the attempt to keep a level of composure, there was hesitance in Zettour’s words. If his conversation partner was his regular self, he may have picked up on this.
Rudersdorf, however, met his words with a look of pure bewilderment.
Damn it all, Zettour cursed in the confines of his mind.
“Let me be clear about this. What are you trying to do here? Why would you even consider something like this?”
“To avoid losing this war. I shouldn’t have to spell it out for you.”
The topic of their discussion was the plan upon which the fate of the empire rested—a topic worthy of a bit more enthusiasm.
What had happened to his friend who made the same pledge of military service, with whom he shared a vision for their nation’s future? Why did he have to verbally spar with the man he considered his blood brother?
Zettour swallowed his initial doubts and continued to mechanically repudiate his friend as any general in his position should.
“I’m shocked. Do you intend to set Plan B in motion the moment diplomatic overtures fail? This says we’re supposed to overthrow the government, then immediately invade Ildoa?”
The imbecile sitting across from him gave a deep nod before continuing with a question from the bottom of his heart.
“What do you expect to come from this?”
Zettour was a career soldier who had watched the war develop from the inner depths of the General Staff Office. He knew the life blood of his nation was running thin.
He had faith his understanding was accurate.
This was why he, together with his long-time friend, struggled to find a way out of this mess with the least sacrifice.
Zettour gave his friend a stern gaze.
My friend, Rudersdorf, you damned fool… Just what kind of game are you up to?
“I wish to prevent the impending collapse of our nation. Ildoa has always been a weak point in our defense, and it’s about time we fix that.” Rudersdorf raised his head a bit as he spoke.
What an answer. It almost made Zettour want to have hope.
“And you believe there’s something we can do to avoid our impending demise?”
“I think it should be avoided.”
Not could, but should. It wasn’t a question of possibility but an object of Rudersdorf’s desire.
Is that the best he can come up with? Zettour sighed as he thought this to himself.
Was Plan B not the product of the Empire’s exhaustion reaching a point where they could no longer entertain any other alternatives?
And yet here I am discussing this with my old friend. This idiot.
“I didn’t expect you to be concerned with what we should do at this stage in the game, Rudersdorf. Perhaps your foresight is becoming harder to distinguish from your hope for the future.”
“Zettour. Tens of thousands of soldiers have died under our command. We must…accept that we’ve made mistakes. But we also can’t let these deaths be in vain. We must consider every possibility. We can’t be the ones to destroy the very ideal our troops died fighting for…”
Many who served under Zettour had given up their lives, believing in the final victory. Not a day went by that those lost souls didn’t haunt him.
Still, there was nothing he could do to change this.
The old man would have to live with this anguish for the rest of his life. Part of his duty as the deputy director of the general staff was to keep himself current on the state of his nation. That was how he knew it was impossible for the Empire to reach the Goddess of Victory.
Ah yes, that damned goddess. She’d finally lured the Heimat to hell with the sweet ambrosia of hope.
“Listen, my dull friend. This goddess you lust for is but an illusion. Let’s refrain from committing adultery… Or have you forgotten the passionate love you share with your wife?”
“I make a clear distinction between military affairs and my home life. I’ll have you know I’ve been nothing but faithful to both my spouse and the war.”
“You say this, and yet here I watch you pursue a love we both know will never bear fruit.”
“It’s my duty. It’s what I must do.”
Ah, of course.
There was an audible tone of disappointment—or perhaps despair—in the sigh Zettour emitted.
His friend had sworn to serve the Reich. He would likely do anything for his nation. He loved his homeland, but this was nothing more than him crying out and weeping at the thought of losing it all.
We need to make a choice now!
“I’m going to say this because I’m your friend, Rudersdorf.”
“Oh? Let’s hear what you have to say.”
“…You can’t claim bankruptcy on a loan taken out as a gamble. Have you given any thought to what we stand to lose by attacking Ildoa? Not to mention the resources; I need everything we have to be sent to the east.”
Everything required for waging war was running out. The shortages in both soldiers and supplies were chronic at this point.
“Where are you going to find the soldiers we would need to destroy Ildoa, which, need I remind you, is the only conceivable channel for peace negotiations we have? Take into account the current state of the Empire before you speak.”
The impending collapse of the Empire couldn’t just be conveniently ignored. Zettour was almost embarrassed that he needed to address it directly.
The two needed to assess their almost-certain defeat earnestly; victory was no longer on the table. Their defeat did not, however, have to mean the end. Though the country itself may fall, its mountain
Even if the current Reich fell, as long as the Heimat continued to exist, there remained hope for the future. The Heimat was a sacred entity. It was the object of the military’s service and loyalty—and they needed to protect it. Surely, Rudersdorf wouldn’t throw away the Heimat’s future for a single battle…would he?
Perhaps if he were a criminal, then yes, maybe… But as he was a patriot, it should’ve been impossible for him even to consider.
“…Have you not figured it out yet, Rudersdorf? Why can’t you understand?”
Zettour’s old friend responded to his conflicted question with a grin.
“Be straight with me. It’s just you and me here.”
These were words he had shared with his friends many times before. Zettour smiled.
“…Things are different now. I need to act my rank. I understand how fickle it all is, but this is our reality.”
“Ranks… Yes, of course. Shall I have my assistant contact yours so we can arrange a meeting? Or would it be better for us to be frank about it?”
Under normal circumstances, it would be unprecedented for a lieutenant general and a general to jest in such a manner. Zettour could only grin and shrug off the joke in an attempt to make his friend dispense with the formalities.
“Well, we both know I’ve been promoted. We’re essentially the same rank at this point.”
“I don’t want to brag, but you’re right. You sure are in the know…”
“I merely tried thinking like a bureaucrat for once. Our promotions are probably nothing more than…an adjustment. Or an attempt to balance out the staff.”
Though Rudersdorf was quiet, his expression did all the talking. Zettour knew Rudersdorf agreed with his sentiment. It was evident that he was ashamed of what would be a de facto promotion.
Zettour himself had received a similar, politically fueled promotion-in-name to lieutenant general for simply fulfilling his duty in maintaining the eastern front.
And it was the man sitting before him who had made the necessary arrangements.
Lieutenant General Zettour, the mastermind behind the success on the eastern front! How absolutely wicked. They may as well call me the ringleader of some clique.
The old man chuckled at himself. He never wished for this. Had Zettour known what the future had in store for him, he never would’ve aspired to climbing the ranks in the first place.
His youth tricked him into believing that if he could wrench open the doors of the General Staff Headquarters with his own strength, then he would find glory and triumph in the army as a pioneer who would pave the way for the Reich and the Empire.
As he grew older and more jaded, he stubbornly clung to his hope: I just need to win.
He sought victory when he was a brigadier general.
It was within his grasp as a major general.
And as a lieutenant general, he continuously yearned for it.
His past was so beautiful.
All he could do was sigh when he compared it to his present. There was no glory in becoming a higher-ranking general only to oversee his nation’s inevitable demise.
It was a lesson in how cruel fate could be.
“As someone who will soon be receiving a meaningless star on my shoulder, it brings me great joy to see an old friend finally receive theirs.”
Zettour wrapped his cutting joke in a nice package of civility before shipping his statement out to his old friend. He, of all people, had the right to make a complaint or two.
“Congratulations on becoming a general, Rudersdorf. I thought I would go down in history as the general who deserved their title the least, but it seems I’ll leave that to you.”
“It’s the war’s fault.” The firm denial of any personal responsibility was perfectly on-brand for Zettour’s old friend. Though parts of him had changed over the course of this trying war, that remained consistent. There was only one thing Zettour had to say in response.
“Yes, of course. It’s no one’s fault, really. But thanks to everything that’s come to pass, it’s finally springtime for us war specialists, however unpopular with the Imperial family or politicians we may be.”
“Springtime?”
“The spring of black death. What do you say? How about you take a load off?”
It was undeniable. The two men stood atop a mountain of corpses. They’d spent everything the Empire had. What’s more, the Empire had nothing to show for any of it. Any sane officer could only furrow their brow. No, any patriot would find the whole debacle utterly shameful. All the more important to not forget that the tinder fueling the raging flames of this total war was their nation’s youth.
They continued to throw on more and more of this precious fuel to keep the flames of war alive. They needed to be aware of what they did as they peppered the continent with the bodies of their children. Why did they make those sacrifices? What was their goal in carrying on? These questions needed to be answered, even if it meant being accused of defeatism.
“Do you wish to keep up this dance of death, rattling our bones like the skeletons we are? Or do you think it’s about time we made our preparations to head back to the graveyard?”
Zettour stared into his old friend’s eyes from across the plain desk at the command center…and found himself praying that his friend would close his impossibly opened arms.
“You’re a general of the Imperial Army now. So what if they call us egotistical? We make the decisions now, do we not?”
It was impossible for Zettour even to pretend he was a good person at this point.
That said, being evil wouldn’t stop him from doing what was right for his country. He could fight for the fatherland’s future, for the stability of the Heimat. It was, after all, his duty to think of how to bring an end to this war. How he would end it. How it would end.
He needed to think about how to make his nation’s final moments as painless as possible. Being the political soldier he was, Zettour was already considering this route. He watched as the man who sat across from him silently blew out a puff of cigar smoke.
The expression he saw was one of fatigue as Rudersdorf patiently waited for his old friend’s retort.
“Zettour…I know we’re in a tough situation right now. This is a dilemma for the fatherland.” The idiot continued with his cigar wedged between his lips and a look of firm resolution.
“But the Reich’s Generals can’t be the ones who make idle complaints. You and I are nothing more than cogs in this machine dedicated to victory.”
“Ah, yes. You and I are the two cogs that proudly display our stars earned with the deaths of our nation’s youth.”
“I won’t pretend their blood isn’t on our hands. But that’s the exact reason we can’t afford to lose. Our defeat may be inevitable, but there’s no reason we should accept it lying down. We are soldiers of the Empire. We need to overturn the inevitable once or twice before considering throwing in the towel.”
Damn it all. He’s right.
The old man showed a wry grin before shaking his head to forget his despair.
“…Do you mistake our nation for the empire of the dead, Rudersdorf?”
It was fine and good to fight for the Empire’s future. Sadly, their reality wasn’t kind enough to let them play around with theories. Furthermore, the two of them had the misfortune of being the country’s two highest-ranking generals. They were nothing but two incompetent fools running the disastrous show from their desks. With the state of the war, it was imperative they frankly discuss the coming fall of their nation, but they refused to accept defeat.
This was their final stand against reality. The senior staff officers would bend fact and logic if it was convenient. But it was impossible to create something out of nothing.
Doing so would be a miracle beyond even the senior staff’s wizardry. To create a miracle that could not be, the race of people known as the general staff officers needed to rouse themselves.
And yet…
“Despite everything, you’re still pursuing victory. That’s why you want to nip Ildoa in the bud while you still can.”
His friend gave a quick nod as if to say precisely, prompting Zettour to give his honest opinion.
“Rudersdorf, Ildoa will remain neutral until we’re on the very brink of defeat. They may be a bunch of cunning opportunists…but their raison d’état is much more sensible than ours in that regard. Plan B should focus on taking care of the imbeciles in our own country.”
