Chapter 225 : Ideal Internationalist Fighters
Chapter 225: Ideal Internationalist Fighters
“What! None of them are willing to come back?”
Mitia raised her head in shock and confirmed again, “All of them?”
“Yes, Your Majesty, all of the exchange students… Most of those who have returned on the recent transport aircraft are noble students originally from the Roshek Tsardom. Their identities are no longer suitable for continuing to live in the Ernesto Republic.”
The Internal Affairs officer looked somewhat embarrassed. “As for our own children… they said they want to contribute to their ideals. It wouldn’t be appropriate for us to use overly forceful measures.”
Upon hearing this, Mitia felt her head begin to ache. She held her forehead and sighed, “These kids… it’s all that brat Cassius setting a bad example!”
“If something happens to them, how am I supposed to explain it to their parents?”
They had agreed to send the children abroad for study, but somehow those studies had turned into a stay on the battlefield. What parent could possibly have been mentally prepared for that? If the news were delivered, a few might faint on the spot.
It seemed that in the future, allocating overseas study slots would become difficult. Once they went abroad, anything could happen beyond just studying.
“Your Majesty… actually, it’s not only the exchange students. Many student organizations have also gathered funds for ship fares, hoping to go to the Ernesto Republic to support the construction of the ideal nation.”
Mitia: “……”
“First, try to dissuade them… no, that won’t work. Let me think.”
Mitia pondered as she scribbled on paper. As the largest social alliance at present, the Seris Federation had the responsibility, as the elder brother, to unconditionally support allied nations that shared the same ideals.
She would issue a call—but not primarily directed at students. Instead, it would target the vast population of veterans within the Federation.
The weapons provided by the Federation, especially aircraft and tanks, all required professional personnel to operate.
Veterans generally possessed mature and stable mindsets, solid professional skills, and combat systems shaped by systematic training. If they were integrated into Ernesto’s forces, it would be a tremendous reinforcement.
It wasn’t that students were incapable—it was simply not recommended.
After all, having ideals and aspirations without solid professional ability could easily lead to unnecessary sacrifices, which would be a great pity.
They could persuade them, but not in an official capacity. That would undoubtedly dampen enthusiasm; a more suitable approach was needed.
After a long while, she said, “Notify their families. At the same time, visit the families of the exchange students in person and explain the situation clearly. Have them write letters, which we will deliver.”
“They can go out and venture into the world if they wish—but first they must pass their family’s approval. If their families support them, then we will not interfere. Everything will be handled according to the standards of internationalist fighters in terms of pensions and honors.”
“If, even after this, there are still students within the country who are determined to go, then gather them together for a two-month period of intensive ‘devil training’ along with supplementary military theory courses. After that, the Navy’s Dreadnought fleet will transport them over.”
“Additionally, select several squads from within the Navy to form Marine units composed of soldiers with outstanding individual combat abilities. If any of those youngsters cannot endure the battlefield and wish to leave, send these units to bring them back.”
The officer quickly recorded everything. After Mitia finished speaking, he stood at attention and saluted. “Understood, I will carry this out immediately.”
“Oh, wait. Which region between the Britian Empire and the Ernesto Republic is closest?”
“Reporting to Your Majesty, it should be Britian’s Derode State. It is only about 800 kilometers from Xinwapa State in Ernesto, and it is also the only gateway before Ernesto’s new capital.”
“Notify the Ministry of Foreign Affairs to hold a press conference and set the tone of the conflict. Allied Saint-level and above powerhouses are not permitted to cross the Derode line into Ernesto territory to escalate the conflict. Violators will be executed!”
“Understood!”
Mitia’s move was intended to suppress the intensity of the war while also buying Ernesto a better chance of survival. After all, if Ernesto managed to withstand the multi-nation alliance forces, the opposing side might simply flip the table.
In terms of mid- and low-level combat power, Ernesto might be able to compete through mobilization and Federation-supplied weapons and equipment. But in terms of top-tier combat power, they were not even on the same level.
Even if each opposing nation sent just one Saint, there would already be six. What kingdom could withstand such devastation?
“I want to go too, I want to go!!!”
The over-two-meter-tall Dragon Girl Aisha wrapped around Mitia like a wall, yet spoke in an overly sweet, cloying voice as she acted coquettishly.
Mitia pushed her arms away and rolled her eyes. “What are you going for? Are you really that addicted to flying planes?”
“Of course I am! The thrill of riding a vehicle and flying wildly in the sky—you wouldn’t understand unless you’ve been ridden.”
Mitia: “?”
“Do you even hear what you’re saying? Since when does ‘riding’ mean being ridden?!”
“Ugh, you wouldn’t understand even if I explained. Anyway, I’m going! I’m already bored of training exercises!”
Mitia rejected her outright. “Go do something else. With your height, you’d have to fly a fighter jet with the canopy open just to fit. Playing around is fine, but if you actually go to the battlefield, that big head of yours would be more noticeable than the propeller~”
With that towering physique, she would be better off carrying a flamethrower. She had no business getting involved with aircraft or tank units.
Aisha’s body glowed faintly as her form gradually shrank, transforming into a dark-skinned little loli. “Here, this should work now, right!”
Mitia stroked her chin and looked her over. “Still not ideal. With that height, you’d be better suited sitting inside a torpedo as a navigator.”
“Get lost!!!”
No matter how Mitia had once weighed the situation and its pros and cons, once a nation openly raised the crimson banner, the level of support she provided would be unprecedented.
Or rather, accumulating wealth, development, and construction had always been for the sake of such causes.
After a short period of retraining, retired Air Force pilots flew large numbers of aircraft equipped with external fuel tanks directly from the Kingdom of Suria to the Ernesto Republic.
Along the sea routes, large transport ships carried tightly packed semi-finished Saint Shamon vehicle frames, cutting through the waves.
Meanwhile, the slower anti-gravity heavy transport airships continuously transported finished homogeneous steel plates and artillery steel assemblies from the Federation’s Steel City of Uruk.
Large transport aircraft heading to Ernesto were filled with various technical experts and specialized equipment. They would identify suitable locations within Ernesto to construct factories of all kinds.
They would replicate a functioning version of the Federation’s industrial chain within Ernesto. There were even large numbers of political cadres, who would bring mature administrative systems.
With retired soldiers sent by the Federation forming the backbone of officer corps and political units, Ernesto’s military combat effectiveness would be significantly enhanced.
Ideals could be nothing more than slogans or thoughts—but their realization always depended on material foundations. Many unnecessary sacrifices could be completely avoided.
Only with better weapons and more professional teams could more people with aspirations live long enough to see the dawn, rather than fall just before it.
Late at night, after Mitia had already gone to rest, she sensed a familiar presence outside her bedroom door. Soon, a soft knock sounded.
Barefoot, she got out of bed and opened the door, faint noises from the manor echoing in the distance.
Anna, who had always been meticulous about etiquette, now stood there with disheveled hair. She slightly raised her head, revealing swollen, reddened eyes filled with panic and fragility—like an abandoned puppy.
“Milady…”
Mitia immediately understood. She stepped forward and pulled Anna into her embrace.
She sobbed softly, “I don’t have a mother anymore.”