Terra Year 1016, Lexington, Columbia.
"Is this truly acceptable? How can such a monumental decision be made arbitrarily without a single directive from the International Communist Party?"
"And what would you have us do? Sit idly by while people are slaughtered?"
Having successfully neutralized the local garrison through a preemptive strike, these party members were now sequestered within what had formerly been the colonial administrative office.
Organizational leaders of the clandestine cells scattered across Columbia, chairmen of regional party branches, and cadres of the Central Committee—not all, but the majority of the major figures of the Communist Party—had gathered here under the title of People's Commissars.
This was the opening of the Columbia Provisional Soviet.
However, the initial sentiments held by these People's Commissars—lofty thoughts such as 'We have established a Soviet even before Victoria, the very cradle of the revolution!' or 'The dawn of a new Communist world is nearly upon us!'—did not endure for long.
"That woman! Elizabeth is responsible for this debacle! I don't care if her grandfather died; how can she trade the success of the revolution for personal grievance? And this from the chair of the Boston regional branch!"
"What... what did that bastard just say?!"
"Typical Centralist trash! You lot think only of yourselves! You have no heart for the people!"
"Stop throwing your pens, damn it!"
The spectacle of these supposedly 'great' individuals gathered in a Soviet assembly was nothing short of a farce.
Not a single item on the agenda had seen progress; only violence and vitriol flew between the commissars.
The current reality of the Columbia Communist Party was a collection of people who lacked a clear vision, clinging instead to the hollow, grandiose phrase of 'Building a Communist New World.'
Inside the hall of this ungrounded Provisional Soviet, some commissars hurled stationary at their colleagues, while others were locked in physical brawls, grabbing each other by the collars.
—Thud!—
"Huh? Hey! You crazy bitch! What are you grabbing?! You insane Sarkaz bastard!!"
"Insane Sarkaz? You're a party cadre and you're spouting racism? You need a lesson!"
In the midst of this anarchy, what was our Secretary General of the Columbia Communist Party doing?
"Comrade Secretary General Browder, shouldn't you say something to calm them down?"
"Heh... do you honestly believe my words would change anything at this point?"
He had simply transcended into a state of weary detachment.
Why was a man holding such a high position as Secretary General merely resigned to fate?
The reason was simple.
"The commissars causing that riot over there are all members of the Liberty League. Do you think they'll listen to me? I'm not exactly Comrade Vladimir, am I?"
He was accurately assessing his own standing.
Since the Columbian colonies were industrially underdeveloped, members of the Social Revolutionary Workers' League were a tiny minority, and the moderate Alliance for Hopeful Progress had been practically eradicated by endless oppression.
Were the Centralists numerous, then? Hardly.
While forty percent of the People's Commissars belonged to the Centralists—who were considered idealists and radicals by the standards of ordinary Terrans—over fifty percent of the commissars were even more radical idealists: the Liberty League.
Would such idealists ever heed the words of a realist?
Secretary General Browder was certain they would not.
"It is better to remain silent. Once something actually happens, they will quiet down on their own."
Browder watched the proceedings of the Provisional Soviet in silence.
The brawling continued, and several bleeding commissars were seen being assisted out of the hall by their comrades.
It was then.
"Hah... hah... urgent news!"
A messenger burst through the doors of the hall, panting heavily.
Every eye in the room fixed upon him.
The report he delivered was nothing short of devastating.
"The Red Guards have been utterly defeated at North Bridge! Over three hundred men have broken rank and deserted!"
"We sent a thousand men, and they were crushed?! What of Maylander's militia?"
"They were broken alongside us by the Ducal Forces!"
The assembly hall instantly devolved into total chaos.
"We sent them out with the best weapons we had, and they retreated? Truly?"
The world began to go dark before Browder's eyes.
His head spun at the realization that they had just squandered their elite unit—outfitted with arms manufactured from secret machinery and the best salvaged gear from the colonial garrison—in a single stroke.
He began to stagger.
"Ah... ah..."
"C-Comrade Secretary General?! Get a hold of yourself! Comrade Secretary General!"
In the end, Browder lost consciousness and collapsed.
************************************
"The situation in Columbia is escalating rapidly. According to telegrams from our local contacts, the Red Guards were caught in an ambush at North Bridge and suffered a crushing defeat. Maylander's militia appears to have retreated due to being vastly outnumbered."
"Where is North Bridge?"
"According to the map, it is located west of Lexington."
The Liberation Army that had risen so majestically in the Columbian colonies had been brutally shattered only two days after the uprising.
Whether Duke Tibalt had prepared with gritted teeth or not, the Columbian Red Guards had been ground to dust in an instant.
Honestly, even if we do have some Sarkaz on our side, the Ducal Forces are vastly superior in terms of pure martial power. What kind of misplaced confidence drove them to deploy their army to the front lines like that?
It's not as if they don't know how to conduct a communist revolution through civil war... Ah.
I forgot. Until now, there hasn't been a single communist state, let alone a successful revolutionary attempt.
I am seriously contemplating whether I need to write a manual on revolutionary strategy.
God... what should I even include?
Anarchist Black Terror? Bolshevik insurrection? Chinese Communist liberation zones? Foco theory?
While I was distracted by these divergent thoughts, a voice brought me back to the present reality.
"So... how should we handle this matter? I believe the motion to indirectly support our revolutionary comrades in Columbia was passed during the last meeting."
Right. That's the core issue.
The point of contention is how we respond from here. I suppose I drifted off for a moment.
Let's return to the subject at hand.
"First... the anti-war movement is a necessity. And attempting strikes or similar actions seems like a viable path."
I said this while stroking my chin.
Hmm... the beard I've been growing lately is coming in nicely.
A man really needs a beard and a mustache if he wants to have that 'classic' look.
Wait, focus.
Distracted again. They say as you get older, your mind wanders more. Am I already like this because my mental age has reached my forties?
I don't even remember exactly how old I am anymore.
Anyway, let's focus on the conversation.
"I can guarantee success if it's a strike. Our League members are unified and absolutely capable of launching a general workers' struggle. Once the resolution is passed, I will draft the plans immediately."
It's a relief to hear Comrade Wrangel guarantee the feasibility of a strike; I can trust his word.
Well, considering our party members—not just supporters—make up over one percent of the national population, it ought to be possible.
If we couldn't even manage that, we'd be nothing more than a puppet party, wouldn't we?
The real problem is the anti-war movement.
Even when the United States was pouring massive amounts of money and manpower into the Vietnam War, early anti-war protests by elite university students were met with government praise from the public rather than support. Would it even work here?
"Um... may I speak regarding the anti-war movement?"
"Oh, yes, Alya. Go ahead."
As I was wrestling with those doubts, Alya spoke up.
"The anti-war movement... wouldn't it be better to launch it after the Columbian Independence Army secures a victory? While the Empire is only hearing news of triumphs, taking the side of the Columbian independence forces carries too much risk and could lead to severe blowback."
"Yes, that is the orthodox view."
Alya's point was undeniably sound.
Taking a completely opposing stance while the Empire is winning?
It might cause even some of our own 'patriotic communist' members to question our direction.
And yet, there is a reason we must do it.
"The problem is that we are the heart of the revolution. If we show a lukewarm response in this situation, what happens? Could our International Communist Party, which has effectively only been established for a few years, actually survive?"
"That... you're right. My thinking was short-sighted."
The issue is political.
If we want to maintain our powerful legitimacy as the heart of the revolution, we must act.
If we don't?
It might not be a problem right now since we are the primary financiers, but later, when communist parties in other regions grow, it would provide them with a massive justification to declare their break from the International Communist Party.
Hah... how should we handle this?
It was then.
"We should send a Military Advisory Group. We can secretly deploy the soldiers we are gradually organizing for the revolution as an 'International Volunteer' force. There's no distinct racial difference, so those fools in the Governor-General's office will just assume they are Columbians anyway. What does this old man's idea sound like?"
It was Pyotr who spoke up.
A Military Advisory Group.
I had intended to send one gradually, but the war broke out much earlier than planned, so we hadn't been able to deploy.
I'd been so busy lately that I nearly forgot.
It sounds better than I expected.
Compared to the Columbia Communist Party, we have far more members who served as junior officers or NCOs, and we have a fair number of individuals gifted with Arts abilities.
In any case, I'm glad a solution has presented itself.
Hehehe.
I can't help but smile.
"Then, whom shall we send as our representative?"
I asked with a faint smirk.
Observing my gratified and 'benevolent' smile, Alya made a slightly uncomfortable expression.
"Uncle... could you not make that face? You look like a villainous mastermind plotting something truly despicable."
"This is called style."
"Hah..."
After easily dismissing Alya's protest, I began to scrutinize the faces of the younger members in the meeting one by one.
I wanted to avoid the ones who clearly didn't want to go, the ones who wanted to send others in their place, or those whose eyes were crawling with the desire for power and promotion.
But I saw none of that.
Everyone's eyes were ablaze with passion, creating an atmosphere that suggested they all wanted to charge into the battlefields of Columbia.
It felt like if just one person raised their hand, the rest would follow suit in an instant.
Eh?
In 21st-century Earth, specifically South Korea, the people who strutted around calling themselves 'Committee Chair of This' or 'Head of That Civil Society Group' in progressive parties were mostly just using those titles as stepping stones to become National Assembly members in the big parties before discarding them.
To see so many people filled with such faith and zeal... it was a truly moving moment.
The first person to raise their hand was Alya.
...Wait, what?
"Me! I'll go!"
Eh? Why?
"Are you... are you serious?"
Her grandfather is here, and her fiancé is here. She's really going?
"Yes! Didn't you say that when I was a child, you displayed your martial prowess and neutralized the enemy in one blow by hurling a spear to protect me? Then of course I must repay that debt!"
That...
If I recall correctly, that spear—or flagpole, or whatever I threw—didn't actually hit that Ursus official.
I was the one who drew his attention, but it was the village farmers who actually neutralized him.
However... the moment Alexandra said that, and I saw the younger men around her looking at me with eyes of absolute adoration while their passion burned even brighter, I felt strangely good about it, so I decided to play along.
Hmm... I suppose I did do it. Yes.
"Ahem! Indeed. Yes. Exactly so."
Right.
Who am I?
The Master of the Javelin, Vladimir Park.
Maxim, Old Man Pyotr, Wrangel, and the other original Ursus members looked at me with pathetic expressions—as if they still saw me as a child—but I decided to count it as my achievement anyway.
"But do you have the confidence to fight?"
"Yes! I'm confident! I can use Arts. I'm a Caster!"
What? She can use Arts?
My interest was piqued immensely.
Please... let her be FrostNova level. A 6-star!!
"Then show us once. No, no, why are you looking at me? Not at me! Over there, at that!"
"Ah! Sorry! I'll give it a try!"
Alya began to gather her energy.
Is 'Qi' the right word? Mana? What was it?
Let's just call it charging time.
As I spent a second or two thinking these trivial thoughts that only a middle-aged man who reads too many wuxia novels would have—
"Haat!"
—BOOM!!!!!—
And with that single strike, the wall of the International Communist Party (and Victorian Communist Party) Central Committee office collapsed.
This... this has to be strong, right?
"That was 40cm thick concrete... how did she pierce that?"
"Ugh, my repair costs! The repair costs!!"
Ah, it was 40cm concrete?
She's damn strong.
Well, I don't have to worry about her dying, then.
That day, I signed the documents to deploy Alya, Laman, and over a hundred party members with officer and NCO backgrounds to Columbia.
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