The air in the STAVKA operations room hung damp and heavy, like the atmosphere of a cellar in the dead of winter.
Almost all the new pins dotting the map of Terra, which covered the entire wall, were clustered to the south and southwest.
The border between Victoria and Gaul, the occupied territories stretching beneath it, and the southern frontier of the Union that met their edge.
Lieutenant General Amfielice Windermere stood a short distance away, staring at that map.
She thought she had grown immune to the roar of artillery and the screams of the dying, but today, the silence in this room pounded against her eardrums with an unsettling rhythm.
Ivanov, the People's Commissar of Defense, was the first to speak.
"Let us summarize. Currently, the main Gallic force is tied down in the Victorian heartland. Though Londinium has fallen, their troops are being bled dry by rear-area security and the administrative demands of occupied territory. Provided we do not initiate a full-scale war immediately, they will need at least half a year to catch their breath."
Wrangel stepped toward the map, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Which brings us to our conclusion: reinforce the Southern Fortress Line. Attach first-tier units to the Southwestern Group of Forces, pull from the reserve formations, and redeploy the artillery. Even if Gaul loses its mind and charges north at us immediately, we must ensure they bash their skulls against that line of fortifications."
Frank Lanster added, flipping through a folder of documents.
"From a financial perspective, it is the only way. A massive buildup on the Eastern Front right now would cause the budget to implode. Concentrating our defensive lines in the South and Southwest while maintaining the status quo in the East is the pragmatic reality."
At the end of the operations table, a mountain of reports sat before Amfielice's seat.
Construction plans for additional bunkers on the Southern Fortress Line, railway expansions, ammunition allocations, unit reorganizations… every scrap of paper pointed in the same direction.
The South.
Amfielice scanned the papers before turning her gaze back to the map.
The Southern Fortress Line was a masterpiece of geometry and numbers.
Forts, trenches, barbed wire, heavy batteries, and the positioning of mobile reserves.
It was a shield forged from months of spilled blood and sweat.
Yet, strangely, that shield felt like a shroud.
It seemed the men standing behind it were finding a dangerous comfort in this drawing.
Ivanov turned to look at her.
"Comrade Lieutenant General Windermere. As a former Victorian, do you have an opinion? Now that your homeland has fallen under the Gallic banner, all that remains for us to protect is our own border."
His tone was meant to be light, almost a jest, but Amfielice was not so dull as to miss the subtle barb hidden within.
Nevertheless, she had to answer.
"I have no disagreement regarding the reinforcement of the Southern Fortress Line," Amfielice stated, choosing her words to match theirs.
"Nor do I deny that the Emperor of Gaul will likely make the Union his next target. However…"
She took a step forward and pointed her finger at the eastern side of the map.
The Union's eastern border, far removed from the Southern Fortress Line. And opposite it, the long, stretching border of Leithanien.
"Assuming that the Gallic Empire will launch a direct assault against our Southern Fortress Line immediately after crushing Victoria… I find that prospect somewhat chilling."
Wrangel raised an eyebrow. "Chilling?"
"Yes."
Amfielice tilted the brim of her officer's cap slightly.
"I learned one thing in Victoria: even when you are confident of victory in a frontal collision, you always consider the path around. Corsica I is no mere warmonger. When he struck Victoria, he chose the weakest points, the most neglected fronts. The Southern Fortress Line… is not weak."
Ivanov gave a short snort. "So, Comrade, you are suggesting Gaul will look for another way instead of a direct confrontation?"
Amfielice pointed to Leithanien on the eastern edge of the map.
"Leithanien."
Silence fell over the operations room.
Someone let out a sound that was half-cough, half-laugh.
"Leithanien is not a nation Gaul would touch directly," Frank countered first.
"They are opportunists who have always survived by selling the balance of power. If Gaul touches them, the Union and other nations will not stand idly by. No matter how great Corsica I's ambitions are, would he really turn another Empire into an enemy so soon after occupying Londinium?"
Amfielice shook her head.
"I am not saying they will occupy Leithanien."
Her finger traced the Leithanien border.
Mountains, plains, buffer zones, Free Cities.
An imaginary arrow pierced through that line in her mind's eye.
"I am speaking of a scenario where they tread upon this path to enter the eastern part of the Union. Instead of swallowing Leithanien whole, they could extort transit rights and logistical support. Or, they could move troops in under the guise of 'protecting' certain border principalities."
Wrangel uncrossed his arms.
"Comrade Lieutenant General. Is that not a leap of the imagination? The Leithanien Electors are no fools. If a Gallic legion crosses their border, the Diet would erupt in chaos, regardless of whether the Witch King remains silent."
Another general chimed in.
"Furthermore, even Gaul has limits to the fronts it can maintain. Policing occupied Victoria, coastal defense, hunting down Victorian remnants… opening up another Empire's worth of front would, from our perspective, be good news. We could wish for nothing better than for them to collapse from overexertion."
A few chuckles rippled through the room.
Amfielice despised that laughter.
She knew better than anyone that the complacency beneath such laughter was always repaid in blood.
She pressed on one last time.
"I, too, would like to believe that Gaul is not so reckless."
She had to force the words 'would like to believe' through her teeth.
"But what if they are? If they neutralize Victoria in short order and exploit this window where the Union is obsessed with the Southern Fortress Line to strike through Leithanien's flank… we will be caught unprepared in the East. A blade will be driven into our eastern industrial heartlands while the Southern Fortress Line remains untouched and useless."
Ivanov's lip twitched.
"Are you suggesting, Comrade, that we reinforce both the South and the East simultaneously?"
"It is a matter of proportion," Amfielice replied.
"If we pour ten parts into the South, let us pour at least four into the East. At the very least, let us have a contingency plan for the worst-case scenario: Gaul coming through Leithanien. Station a few more reserve batteries at eastern strategic points, increase reconnaissance along the Leithanien border—that alone would—"
Another Lieutenant General sitting near the middle raised his hand.
"Comrade Lieutenant General Windermere."
His tone was polite, but the corners of his mouth were turned down in a smirk.
"I understand that the scenario is logically possible. But the military cannot treat every 'possible' scenario with the same weight. The danger we face right now is the South. The distance from Londinium to our border is negligible. While we don't know where Gaul will turn its blade next, common sense dictates the South."
Frank nodded in agreement.
"Besides, Leithanien is still officially neutral. If we mass troops in the East, they will start to distrust us. Merchants are like that—they raise prices the moment someone even starts to draw a knife."
From the corner of the room, Feliksa added a comment.
"As far as our intelligence networks can tell, the Leithanien Diet is still trying to avoid a direct war with Gaul. They've accepted the Victorian royals, but only as 'temporary guests.' If Gaul pushes troops in before an internal decision is reached… the Electors will turn against them as one. Would Corsica I really take that risk?"
Amfielice looked at Feliksa.
"There are plenty of ways to use Leithanien as a corridor without taking that risk. He could convince them to 'build a wall together to stop the Union's Red Plague,' or use the Victorian royal family as leverage…"
Ivanov waved his hand dismissively.
"Lieutenant General."
His voice dropped an octave.
"We must prioritize the tasks at hand. The Southern Fortress Line is consuming manpower and materials around the clock. Proposing a large-scale buildup in the East on top of that is easy to say, but difficult to execute. We risk ending up with a Southern line that is incomplete and an Eastern line that is mediocre."
Wrangel tapped the back of an empty chair.
"And… is Gaul really that insane for war? Dealing with Victoria alone must be a headache. To turn both the Union and Leithanien into enemies simultaneously… genius or not, that's madness."
A gentle wave of laughter circulated through the operations room once more.
Amfielice did not join them.
She remembered the villages from her days as an officer under her father—villages where people thought, 'Surely the enemy won't push this far.'
Most of those villages were erased and burned by the enemy's hand.
Amfielice stared at the eastern side of the map once more, then finally held her tongue.
Ivanov summarized the conclusion.
"Very well. We proceed with the plan to reinforce the Southern and Southwestern fortifications as stands. The East will only be maintained within the scope of existing plans. However, we are not entirely ignoring Comrade Windermere's input. We will raise the level of reconnaissance and intelligence gathering on the Leithanien border by one grade. Would that satisfy everyone?"
Wrangel smiled.
"That should take the edge off your 'chilling' premonition, Comrade Lieutenant General."
Amfielice gave a sharp nod.
"…Yes. At least it eases my mind a little."
Her eyes still trembled with a lingering anxiety, but to the others in the room, it was dismissed as nothing more than the 'hypersensitivity of a former Victorian noble.'
The meeting adjourned, and the officers began to depart one by one.
Amfielice remained before the map until the very end, her eyes flitting between the Southern Fortress Line and the Eastern border.
The South was thick with lines and numbers. The East was hauntingly empty.
It looked like a canvas someone had intentionally left blank.
**********************
In a temporary field command post established on the outskirts of Londinium, Corsica I found no sleep as dawn approached.
While he remained awake, fires and screams continued to erupt across the city.
The capital of Victoria had officially fallen, but the citizens of Londinium were offering their final resistance to defend the honor of the 'Heart of the Empire.'
In the gray light of morning, his Chief of Staff entered, carrying a thick leather folder.
"Your Majesty. I have the latest troop deployment plans and the security report for the occupied territories."
Corsica I did not turn away from the window, merely holding out his hand.
"Tell me."
The Chief of Staff reported on the situation in Victoria first.
"Currently, the 4th, 6th, and 9th Legions, along with several veteran Guard units, are stationed in the Victorian heartland. A significant number of troops are tied down by coastal defense, port control, and maintaining order in the major Nomadic Cities. Despite the King's absence, small-scale guerrilla activity persists in Londinium. Remnants of the Royal Army and armed civilians are harassing our supply lines. However, excluding the noble armies still floundering in their own fiefs in the South, the strategic threat level is not yet—"
Corsica I cut him off.
"That is enough. There is always such a futile final struggle."
He drummed his fingers against the edge of the folder.
"Territorial control is a problem for later. What matters now is the impression this city and our Empire's victory leave upon the rest of Terra. The fact that Victoria has collapsed. The fact that their King has fled. The fact that the Gallic Empire is the sole hegemon of the West."
The Chief of Staff bowed his head.
"To that end, the Ministry of Propaganda and the Ministry of Foreign Affairs are preparing a proclamation to commemorate the occupation of Londinium. We are also preparing envoys to be sent to the Union, Leithanien, Iberia, and elsewhere to notify them of our victory…"
Corsica smiled.
"A notification is unnecessary. They already know. The key is to ensure they have no idea what we will do next."
He finally turned from the window and unfurled a map showing Western and Central Terra.
Red flags nearly smothered the Victorian heartland. To the east lay the intricate borders of Leithanien, and to the north, the long, daunting frontier of the Union.
Corsica placed his hand first on the southern border of the Union.
"Here."
He traced the location of the Southern Fortress Line several times.
"The Union's shield. The wall we must breach."
An aide added, "Reconnaissance reports indicate that construction on the Southern Fortress Line has accelerated dramatically in recent weeks. New artillery emplacements, expanded supply depots, reinforced mobile groups… The Union is convinced that after Victoria, they are our next target."
Corsica I laughed softly.
"Naturally. I would think the same if I were in their boots."
He slowly drew a line along the Southern Fortress Line with his finger.
"But does that mean they can stop it?"
The staff officers blinked in confusion.
Corsica I continued, "We shall assemble two field armies and one mobile group in southwestern Victoria. We can pull some troops from the occupied territories and mobilize reserves from the heartland. The important part is 'showing' them. We must move in a way that is clearly captured by their scouts, their intelligence networks, and their spies' reports. We must ensure every eye they have is fixed upon the Southern Fortress Line."
A young officer cautiously raised his hand.
"Your Majesty, when do you intend to commence the war against the Union?"
Corsica stared at him for a long moment, then let his lips curl into a grin.
"The war has already begun."
He jerked his chin toward the darkness outside, where Londinium's fires had yet to die.
"The moment we decided to strike Londinium, the last neutral zone between the Union and Gaul vanished. The Union must feel that this war is their business. They simply do not know when or where they will be dragged into the meat grinder."
The Chief of Staff asked while taking notes, "Then, are you saying the forces gathering in the South are not intended as an invasion force, but as a demonstration force?"
"A demonstration force? A fitting name," Corsica said dismissively.
"The goal is to force the Union to center all its calculations on the line connecting the Southern Fortress Line and the occupied Victorian lands. To ensure they never avert their gaze from that line for even a second."
He reached out and drew an imaginary arrow on the map, pointing toward the Leithanien border to the east.
"And in the meantime, we shall march through here."
The faces of several generals stiffened.
"Through Leithanien…?"
Corsica I cut them short. "I have not yet decided how we shall handle Leithanien."
He was not the type to tell blatant lies.
Instead, he was exceptionally skilled at choosing which parts of the truth to reveal.
"We could launch a physical invasion, or simply extract transit and stationing rights. We could entice the Electors to open the path, or conversely, smash a few principalities to terrify the rest into compliance. The form does not matter; only the result does."
"And the result being…?" the Chief of Staff asked.
"A gateway to the eastern heartland of the Union."
Corsica's voice dropped to a low rasp.
"The Southern Fortress Line would demand too much blood for us to break head-on. However, a fortress always has weaknesses at its flanks and rear. If we pass through Leithanien—or break a part of it—and come around from behind… the Union will find itself facing two fronts simultaneously. One for which they are prepared, and one for which they are not."
The young officer asked, looking worried, "…Your Majesty. Would that not mean our Empire would be in a state of full-scale war with the Union, Leithanien, and the Victorian remnants all at once? We would be facing too many enemies at the same time."
Corsica laughed, showing no sign of fatigue.
"Having many enemies has its advantages."
"Advantages, Sire…?"
"Their interests conflict with one another."
He jabbed his finger at multiple points on the map at once.
"The relationship between the Union and the Victorian remnants is far from simple. The Leithanien Electors do not trust one another. Even within the Union, there must be friction between the Communists, the military, and the bureaucracy. We need only to widen those gaps. Ensure that all our enemies do not look at us at the same time."
The Minister of Foreign Affairs, having remained silent for a long time, finally spoke.
"I understand your intent, Your Majesty. In that case, diplomatic preparations are also necessary. How we draft the declaration of war against the Union, what language we use with Leithanien…"
Corsica nodded.
"To the Union, we must speak clearly. This war is a crusade between noble Terran civilization and the filth of Red barbarism. We forced Victoria to its knees because of their corruption and incompetence, but our war with the Union is a clash between civilization and atheism. Our soldiers must feel like crusaders standing against savagery."
The Foreign Minister opened a folder.
"I have a draft."
He began to read a sentence crafted alongside the Ministry of Propaganda.
"Corsica I, Emperor of the Gallic Empire, declares thus before all citizens of Terra and before the gods… That the Union of Terra Soviet Socialist Republics denies not only Kings and Nobles, but God and Order themselves, seeking to destroy all tradition and faith… and that our Gallic Empire will no longer stand idly by while this Red Plague spreads across all of Terra…"
After hearing a few lines, Corsica waved him off.
"Sufficiently florid," he chuckled briefly.
"What matters is that this declaration will grate on the Union's nerves. It must force them to go into a state of high alert across their entire border and pull even more troops to the Southern Fortress Line. And while they do that, our main force…"
He picked up a few red pins and moved them toward Leithanien.
"…vanishes in this direction."
One aide asked quietly, "Is Leithanien not a target of our declaration of war?"
"Not for now," Corsica I replied calmly.
"We declare war on the Union first. That ensures all eyes are fixed there. We must make the move against Leithanien appear to be a secondary, incidental phenomenon. While the Electors are sitting in their Diet halls thinking, 'Surely we aren't the real enemy,' our legions must already be crossing their rivers and plains."
The Foreign Minister sighed.
"Leithanien will not just stand still."
"Of course they won't."
Corsica I's eyes glinted with a cold light.
"But by the time they move, it will already be too late. Just as it was in the Victorian war."
He looked at the dawn light slowly brightening in the darkness outside.
"Time is not on our side."
The aides winced.
"Therefore, we shall overcome time itself."
Corsica finally folded the map.
"I shall issue the orders. Reorganize the southern legions, adjust security forces in the occupied Victorian territories, and prepare the declaration of war against the Union. And…"
He paused for a moment, then gave a very small smile.
"The legions moving toward the Leithanien border are moving to conduct a 'Special Military Operation.' Is that understood?"
The staff officers bowed in unison.
"By your command, Sire."
Corsica I walked back to the window.
The fires in Londinium were slowly beginning to fade.
But in his eyes, new flames seemed to glimmer faintly against the eastern sky.
"Now all that remains…" he muttered softly.
"Is to see who makes the first mistake."
The Union, Leithanien, or himself.
He had made up his mind that he would not be the first of the three.