Arc of Fire

Wang Zhong had just finished surveying the entirety of Shostka.

Comparatively speaking, the city was larger than Loktov and Orachi, making it the largest city Wang Zhong had defended so far, though “large” is relative.

It had to be said that as a defensive position, this place was much better than the plains of Orachi, with its rivers, woods, and high ground capable of overseeing the opposite side.

When Wang Zhong had first crossed over to this world, he was nothing but a fake military strategist who had only played war games. Now, he had learned through real battle experience. Sometimes, without even needing an overview angle, he could tell which areas were suitable for defense and which café could block off two streets.

After completing the tour, Wang Zhong had a full understanding of the entire operational area.

“What’s left is to run a check on the areas our artillery can cover,” he said to Popov, who had been accompanying him on the inspection.

Popov replied, “Considering the time, don’t bother coming back until tomorrow morning if you leave the city today. You still have to fly to the capital.”

Observing the sun setting in the west, Wang Zhong sighed, “Then we’ll have to wait until after I return from the capital.”

He paused, then suddenly smiled, “However, it’s good news to be sure that the Naval Infantry will be joining the battle.”

The fame of the Naval Infantry had not yet been established, which was why Popov found it strange.

Wang Zhong, too lazy to explain, simply pinched Bucephalus’s belly, urging the horse to run: “Let’s go back to headquarters. Pavlov must have already arranged everything.”

————

St. Ye Katerina Fortress, Summer Palace, August 9, 2000 hours.

When Olga Nikolayevna Antonovna, who had been prohibited from entering the operational map room, pushed the door open, all the generals inside stood up.

Chief of General Staff Tukhachev asked with concern, “How is His Majesty’s condition?”

Princess Olga—now properly referred to as Crown Princess—Olga shook her head, “He is still locked in his study.”

The generals exchanged glances.

Tukhachev clicked his tongue, “This is bad. Without His Majesty’s approval… many orders cannot be executed.”

Crown Princess Olga revealed a seal in her hand, “The Emperor has allowed me to approve combat plans on his behalf. He shouted through the door, ‘After all, the generals just need someone responsible to blame.'”

The atmosphere became a bit awkward for a moment.

Semyon Konstantinovich and Chief of General Staff Tukhachev exchanged looks before asking, “Is Grand Patriarch Belinsky still waiting in the reception room?”

Olga replied, “Yes, the Grand Patriarch is still waiting, and he has requested that the kitchen provide him with kebabs and champagne.”

Tukhachev remarked, “He is a patriarch, kebabs, champagne? Does he also want to toast to the death of the Crown Prince?”

Olga suddenly said, “From the Grand Patriarch’s perspective, my brother’s death is actually bad news. My brother’s death has galvanized the breakout troops, and presumably also the morale of other Ante Army citizens. For the Secular faction, this isn’t a good thing, is it?”

“That you would come to such a conclusion causes me great pain,” a cold, steady voice came from the doorway. Without looking, one could tell who it was.

Grand Patriarch Belinsky, accompanied by two knight guards, walked into the room.

“The Crown Prince’s death, of course, deeply saddens me. At the same time, the boost it gives to our military and civilian morale is truly heartening. I’ve come to discuss with His Majesty the organization of a state funeral for the Crown Prince.”

Olga was somewhat surprised, “A state funeral?”

“Yes, at such a time we need to make everyone forget our grand failure—oh, it’s too early to talk about that,” the Grand Patriarch waved his hand, “make everyone forget the grand failure we are about to face. Isn’t a state funeral just apt?”

The generals looked at each other.

Belinsky continued, “You should understand the importance of morale better than I, a mere priest. Plus, the Crown Prince died for his country, ideally covering up the Royal Family’s decision-making errors, allowing everyone to forget that it was His Majesty the Tsar’s mistake that led to the demise of a million-strong army, wasn’t it?”

The words of the Grand Patriarch lightened the faces of many.

But then the Grand Patriarch added, “Of course, the Crown Prince’s military identity, along with the late Duke Rocossov’s grand marshal rank, will also help the nation forget that it was the High Command’s incompetence that caused His Majesty the Tsar’s misjudgment.”

Tukhachev interjected, “No, from the beginning we…”

“You sidelined Gorky Konstantinovich to the Saint Andrew Front Army. You thought that would keep him from demonstrating his command abilities. But the enemy is advancing quickly, and the Saint Andrew Front Army has already engaged with them.”

The Grand Patriarch stared at the Chief of General Staff.

Pressured by the Grand Patriarch’s gaze, the staff could only turn towards Marshal Semyon for assistance.

The Marshal acknowledged, “The High Command admits the strategic misjudgment. But, Your Excellency Grand Patriarch, are you intending to meddle in military affairs, recommending that we appoint…”

“Oh no no, Saint Andrew Fort is critical for both the Eastern Holy Church and the Secular faction. We wouldn’t trust it to other useless generals—excuse me, other generals.”

The Grand Patriarch glanced at Marshal Semyon before resting his gaze back on the Crown Princess.

“Not only should your brother be honored with a state funeral, so too should the one who died alongside him, Duke Konstantin Alexandrovich Rokossovsky. We also plan to hold a collective memorial service to commemorate the brave warriors who have died since the war began.

“Such a ceremony needs a hero among heroes to represent the living soldiers and take an oath. I happen to know just such a hero.”

As the Grand Patriarch scanned the room, everyone had already guessed whom he was about to name, but everyone stayed silent in tacit agreement.

Grand Patriarch: “He is the dearest friend of the Crown Prince, and also the son of the Duke of Rocossov who died for the country. He is a brave general deeply loved by the soldiers at the front, and he has achieved exceptionally brilliant battle results!

“There is no one more suitable than him, Your Royal Highness the Crown Princess.”

Princess Olga: “You should speak to the Tsar father…”

“He won’t see me, and don’t you have his seal? You could stamp the order for the funeral ceremony yourself,” the Grand Patriarch gestured, and a Cardinal immediately came over with the documents.

Olga pursed her lips.

The Grand Patriarch leaned slightly forward: “Your Highness, I have always thought you are the smartest person in the Antonov family. I hope, at this time, you will make a choice that benefits the whole of Ante.”

Olga picked up the seal.

The Cardinal immediately offered the inkpad.

A second later, the seal representing the Tsar affixed to the order for the state funeral and collective memorial service.

The Grand Patriarch smiled: “Very good. Then, as someone who does not understand military affairs, I shall not interfere with your decision-making. I hope you can save as many troops as possible from the encirclement.”

Having said that, the Grand Patriarch left with his group.

No one in the map room spoke for a full three minutes.

Then Tukhachev slapped the table and cursed: “He actually outright called us useless!”

Olga looked at the Chief of General Staff, saying nothing.

Marshal Semyon exclaimed, “Many of the mid and lower-level commanders are already familiar with the military chaplains. There’s also intelligence indicating that many commanders who have performed well have been noted by the church.

“Moreover, many officers have realized that to achieve good results in defensive battles, one must establish a good cooperative relationship with the church’s Guardian Army and the Labor Camp. Major General Rocossov did just that, working closely with the local church in both Loktov and Orachi.”

The senior officers present looked at each other. What Marshal Semyon had said, was essentially implying: All the officers who fought well were in cahoots with the church.

“They can’t possibly meddle in military personnel matters, can they?” Tukhachev said disdainfully.

Marshal Semyon replied, “They don’t need to meddle. Those who fight well get promoted, and generally, only the ones who fight well survive.”

Tukhachev fell silent and after a few minutes, cursed angrily: “The most critical thing is, to win, we must promote these officers who perform well.”

Marshal Semyon: “The most critical thing is, to continue this fight, the church must play their role.”

Tukhachev fell silent for a few seconds before changing the subject: “That Major General Rocossov, he’s a playboy, right? Shouldn’t he be more like an old-school officer? Maybe we can win him over?”

At this moment, General Tugenev, who had been sitting silently in the corner, spoke up: “He has already arrived in Shostka. He will land at an airport on the outskirts of Shostka tonight on a special plane, and after an inspection, he will be brought back tomorrow.”

Tukhachev: “What about the arrangements after he’s brought back?”

“First, arrange accommodations, and then mainly rest. After all, he has been through a long journey…”

“No, no,” Tukhachev interrupted General Tugenev, “arrange a war experience summary meeting tomorrow night. Gather all available experienced officers in the capital. It’s time we probe their depths, we can’t always let the church mix with them.”

Olga frowned slightly: “May I attend this meeting?”

Marshal Semyon: “If His Majesty is still in his current state tomorrow, you’ll probably have to attend.”

Tukhachev smiled: “The officers will be very happy with you there.”

————

Shostka, headquarters of the 151st Temporary Infantry Division.

Wang Zhong looked at the map, his brows furrowed: “What if I go to the capital tomorrow and find that it’s all peace and joy, with nobles dancing and horses running as usual?”

He could already imagine that seeing such a situation, his blood pressure would surely skyrocket, and if there was a weapon at hand, it could turn into a situation like “how could we ever win against Prosen with these vermin.”

Pavlov responded with extreme unease: “This… That shouldn’t happen, right? With total war breaking out, the capital’s supplies couldn’t possibly be so plentiful.”

Wang Zhong: “So you think it won’t be outrageous because of the lack of supplies, not because you have confidence in the nobles huh?”

Just then, a staff officer led two Air Force officers into the map room; they stood to attention and reported: “Colonel Harlamov from the Air Force, and Captain Ivan Fedorovich.”

The two airmen saluted Wang Zhong together.

“Your Excellency General,” said Colonel Harlamov, “I will lead a fighter squadron to escort your plane.”

Wang Zhong: “What planes does your squadron fly?”

Colonel Harlamov: “Yak-1, an excellent low-altitude fighter. It’s a shame the enemy advances on the capital from high altitude! I don’t know why they would station squadrons equipped with Yak-1s in the capital.”

The Air Force colonel was probably just casually venting.

But Wang Zhong, the listener, had an idea: “Would you like to fight here with us? We have plenty of low-altitude combat here. Once the enemy’s Stukas finish bombing, they escape at low altitude, which is your time to shine.”

The colonel glanced at Wang Zhong’s shoulder insignia: “You’re a major general; we all know that it usually takes an Army general to command the Air Force.”

Wang Zhong: “Ah, well, I’ll try my best. What time can we reach the capital tomorrow?”

Answering Wang Zhong was Captain Ivan Fedorovich: “We should arrive around four in the afternoon.”

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