"Daugavpils?"
Upon hearing the report, Vela paused briefly, then smiled. "The W-ZERO Unit's Wyvern Squadron, hmm? Is 'Hannibal's Ghost' among them?"
"Not yet confirmed, Your Highness. We're verifying. However, it appears this E.U. airborne special forces unit has… turned on itself? Sensors detected three modified Alexander-type Knightmare Frames attacking their own allies. Could they be malfunctioning? Or is this the work of the Empire's Foreign Intelligence Bureau?"
I didn't give that order.
Vela's brow arched slightly.
Even if the embedded agents within W-ZERO had been activated, it should have been under her command.
The engagement hadn't even begun yet. The composition of the Wyvern airborne forces hadn't been confirmed, and she was still waiting for the Hammel Squadron's targets to appear… To act this hastily, before contact—such crude execution only weakened the impact of any internal sabotage later on.
Unless—
"Lord Manfredi, transmit the live feed to me."
"Yes, Your Highness!"
The commander of the St. Michael Knights stationed in Daugavpils answered at once.
The screen flickered, and on Vela's panoramic holographic display, Manfredi's video window shrank to the side. The central view filled with segmented, multi-angle live visuals.
Some were distant, some close. Some high, some low. Standard optics mixed with infrared night vision. The feeds showed:
—E.U. mechs gliding silently on low-noise wings;
—[Alexander] units landing hard or soft across the battlefield;
—flaming debris streaking down as the descent pods disintegrated;
—the dim forests of Eastern Europe before dawn;
—and amidst the flashes of tracer fire, dozens of mechs moving rapidly in response to the commotion.
Vela extracted the key visuals.
Beep-beep.
Four overlapping still frames enlarged before her eyes.
All the fast-moving figures exchanging metallic gunfire storms were [Alexander]-type Knightmares.
By the flashes of gunfire and rocket bursts, she could discern—based on forearm armaments and auxiliary modules—that one was close-combat specialized, another frontline assault-oriented, and a third configured for sniping. The trio was besieging a single special-type unit.
Unlike the others' blue-and-white livery, this unit was painted pure white, accented only with thin crimson lines. Its head bore a glowing red cross.
"'Hannibal's Ghost.'"
Vela magnified the feed again.
Her gaze fixed on the machine behind that cross-marked [Alexander].
At the moment it evaded an ally's rocket explosion, the flare briefly illuminated a towering tree nearby—revealing another [Alexander] standing there, spider-like limbs retracting as it transformed into humanoid form.
Its blue-dominant coloration, circular antenna array hovering above the head for enhanced communications, the additional reinforced armor plating, and arm-mounted unknown module—all marked it clearly as a command-specialized control unit.
Combined with 'Hannibal's Ghost' guarding it so closely, Vela instantly deduced the pilot's identity.
"Tsk… What's this? Throwing herself into danger? She overestimated herself."
Closing the live feed, Vela turned her gaze toward the smoke-shrouded siege of Riga and let out a quiet, amused laugh, shaking her head.
How unexpected.
She had miscalculated.
Vela had assumed that Leila von Breisgau, faced with such circumstances, would never choose recklessness. A proper commander, after all, should have the composure and strategic vision to rely on the safer, more stable Hammel Squadron—with greater numbers and easier command coordination.
After all, under her influence, the timeline had shifted. The once pitifully small W-ZERO Unit—with barely a handful of capable pilots—was now backed by the E.U.'s National Defense Forty-Man Council, well-funded and massively expanded. The Wyvern Squadron alone now boasted over a hundred elite pilots, while the Hammel Squadron had more than a thousand qualified mech operators, not to mention countless support personnel.
The difference in scale and power was incomparable.
By any reasonable logic, the forces committed to this surprise operation were more than sufficient. With the E.U. Belarusian and Polish armies launching simultaneous offensives to divert Britannia's attention, and the addition of experienced technical officers from the regular army, there was no reason for a commander to personally enter the battlefield as an emergency drone operator.
Based on that reasoning, Vela concluded that Leila would never risk an airborne descent deep into enemy territory alongside the Wyvern Squadron, even if their drop zone wasn't far from the E.U. Belarusian front.
Considering that rebellious girl's sense of duty and courage, however, Leila was no coward hiding in the rear. To prove her ideals and earn the trust of the long-suffering Elevens serving in her ranks, she would undoubtedly take part in such a crucial reappearance of the W-ZERO Unit.
Vela's mind turned to the newly mentioned and 'unfamiliar' Hammel Squadron.
Once one understood Paris's current political pressures, W-ZERO's operational objectives became easy to infer.
The Baltic States.
She could be certain that the W-ZERO Unit—or more precisely, the E.U. authorities in Paris—had set their sights on that massive salient threatening Warsaw, the one that had humiliated them both in public opinion and in the National Assembly.
Their goal was simple: sever it—or flatten it entirely.
As for the details of the operation, the W-ZERO Unit had implemented tight security. Once the operation briefing concluded, all soldiers' external communications were immediately severed. Even the spies turned by the Empire's Foreign Intelligence Bureau in the Alsace-Lorraine Branch could not send out updates.
Not that they needed to.
All Vela needed to know was when they launched.
The five successive launches of the [Apollo's Chariot] super-heavy rockets—now that was a spectacle impossible to conceal. Vela had watched the entire process live.
The footage had been captured by a field agent from the Alsace-Lorraine Branch, disguised as a forest fire watchman, stationed in a lookout tower ten kilometers from Weisswolf Base.
Once the launches were confirmed, Vela discreetly made her way from St. Petersburg to the small Latvian city of Ogre.
Latvia, positioned in the center of the Baltic States, made Ogre the perfect midpoint. From there, whether moving north to Estonia, south to Lithuania or East Prussia, or east into Belarus, the [Excalibur] could reach any front within thirty minutes at standard cruising speed.
Ogre lay just fifty kilometers from Riga's encirclement line and less than one hundred fifty from the border city of Daugavpils—perfect for swift reinforcement or interception.
Vela had deliberately left herself ample flexibility for miscalculation.
Positioning closer to the Riga perimeter also allowed her to respond to potential amphibious operations by the Hammel Squadron. W-ZERO's massive underwater transport subs and surface fleet stood little chance of breaking through the Britannian Baltic Fleet's blockade—submarine infiltration was their only real option.
For that reason, her [Excalibur] had recently undergone waterproofing and structural modifications for underwater operations.
Vela had estimated that Leila would command the Hammel Squadron in a second-wave attack—right after the Wyverns struck the St. Michael Knights from behind.
But as things stood… she had overestimated her opponent.
Leila had still chosen the path that most boldly displayed courage and solidarity with her soldiers—the Wyvern Squadron.
Smack!
Vela pressed a palm to her forehead.
"Ugh… you're making me look stupid, Leila. Here I am, waging an intellectual war against thin air."
Perhaps she'd been too cautious—too unwilling to underestimate others. Sometimes, a little arrogance ruled the world better.
"Lord Manfredi."
"At your command!"
"Close the net. Capture the pilot of that command-specialized [Alexander] alive. The others are irrelevant."
With that, Vela pushed the throttle forward.
Vrrrrrrr-BOOM—!