[Blue Archive] I am the Trinity Checkpoint Chief – Chapter 103

Trinity General School Host’s Guard, Gehenna Front 1st Artillery Corps

The command headquarters at the city’s edge buzzed with students in motion. The chief of staff was thrilled to clear out nearly rotting ammo reserves, but the rank-and-file were ground to dust.

The observation team leader sighed. The paperwork wasn’t any worse than usual.

But the situation wasn’t measurable in pounds. Redeploying frontline units was a nightmare. She was already on her fifth can of coffee.

Gulp, gulp—the bitter brown liquid soothed her throat.

Trinity’s girls wouldn’t touch a sugar-caffeine mix. For someone used to Harrods tea, industrial caffeine was barely palatable—bitter to the point of pain.

She swore she’d transfer to the Justice Task Force soon—Hasumi-senpai’s dessert obsession was legendary.

Before diving into work, let’s be clear: the military is vast.

The 1st Artillery Corps alone has a three-digit student count—Trinity’s Host’s Guard rivals the Justice Task Force in scale. Roles are tailored to students’ desires, with new positions created as needed.

Students skilled with vehicles join the Crusader Armored Corps; those good with numbers end up in observation. There are multiple criteria for dividing infantry and artillery, and multitasking is routine. She herself got saddled with deputy commander duties on top of everything else.

She knew how hard it was to assign students. She’d worked long enough to learn.

But… the dawn order was jarring.

“Tea Party Order for Trinity General School’s Defense”: Upon receipt, all unit commanders shall execute the following:

• Complete withdrawal from border and defense zones. Within 48 hours, redeploy to the front and prepare for offensive operations.

In short: abandon fortifications and join the fight. The higher-ups planned to empty Gehenna’s border entirely.

The “front” likely meant the High Cathedral, where fighting had raged for days. The Acting Commander wasn’t incompetent. Experienced and perceptive, she wouldn’t throw troops in blindly.

So, the observation team leader’s concerns were the opposite.

Details revealed non-frontline units’ assembly points: the rear of the High Cathedral, the thinnest part of the line.

The answer was clear. Something big was planned. If only she could see the strategic map in the Tea Party’s office. Maybe she should visit the general staff—dogeza if it’s classified.

She wasn’t an elite at headquarters, but she prided herself as the sharpest after the commander.

Pushing through a section of the High Cathedral could split the front. A unified enemy was tough, but fragmented groups were easier to crush.

Hmm—she couldn’t grasp the intent.

Mobilizing units for just this?

Consider the politics. Tea Parties aren’t frequent. Holding one the next day was unprecedented. Thousands of agenda items were spewed and passed, upending Trinity.

The military obeys higher-ups, but shouldn’t they know who those “higher-ups” are?

‘…’

She tried to ponder the real power’s identity but chose a wiser path.

Politics intrigued her, but the immediate concern was the paperwork pile. How many coffee cans would it take?

A student not even a decade old couldn’t know.

***

“Until the enemy retreats from Trinity General School, all students are permanently conscripted for military service.”

“That’s terrifyingly serious.”

Ugh—society’s refined ladies wouldn’t get it. No memories of shaking juniors awake during an emergency bell, so “permanent conscription” was beyond them.

I glanced at Hanako. Her look screamed, If you’re issuing a proclamation, write it properly. I turned away.

If only Sayuri-san were here. Most administrators I met post-reshuffle were swamped, and our junior, suddenly Pater’s faction leader, was no different. She’d been working all day.

In the end, Hanako was the only student I could meet in the Tea Party hall. With the captain absent, the Prefect Team was in chaos, and the Sisterhood was fighting to help. The High Cathedral’s paperwork was now Hanako’s burden.

My friend was sprawled like laundry over a stream.

“Ugh! Isn’t this too much!? Are you deliberately sidelining me or what?”

“Calm down, Hanako. It’s better than my load.”

“…I admit it’s less than yours, but still. I’m me, and you’re you.”

Wouldn’t that be nice? But flip it: you and I are different. I don’t have to care about others’ feelings, pfft.

Hanako agreed with my advice for one reason: it was nearly noon, and I’d spent all day on calls to secure troop withdrawals.

Gehenna Academy, Abydos High School, Kaiser Corporation’s tin-can punks… even local warlords got calls.

“You administrators don’t get it. We withdrew troops, so handle security yourselves.”

“Why pull out without agreement?! Don’t you know the Prefect Team’s swamped?!”

They didn’t know the situation. We’d barely communicated since the crisis began.

But what can you do? With political unrest resolved, eliminating enemies comes first. With the region groaning under civil war—seems the Prefect Team leader was a big chunk of the Disciplinary Committee—I had no time to care.

“Huh? That measly threat from the Dekoboko Helmet Gang…”

“Don’t mess around, damn it. I told you clearly: touch us now, and your base is a sea of fire!”

Negotiations with the Helmet Gang went smoothly. We had an open, honest talk with plenty of debate… but it ended with their leader caving in fear.

If they were gonna back off, they shouldn’t have acted up. I had to fire a missile because of them.

Anyway, those calls eased some pressure. The border was settled with Prefect Team support and military threats—the ordnance bureau’s missile test helped. Black market mercenaries won’t interfere at the High Cathedral.

Classified issues are being resolved too. Military movement orders are in motion, and the Host’s Guard artillery was handed to Eclair-senpai. Kivotos’s largest artillery group, huh.

Sensei’s actions are noteworthy. So many students follow them.

The Total Student Council’s extralegal investigation club… Schale’s influence is immense. Sensei doesn’t command a single division, yet they stopped the Justice Task Force’s morale collapse without force or mobilization.

Wow, is that an adult’s power?

“Sensei’s a good person, Hikari-san.”

“You’re saying that, Hanako?”

“It’s true.”

“…Well, you’re not wrong.”

No clue what magic they pulled, but their dedication to resolving Eden is admirable.

Kivotos’s two biggest academies were swept up. It’s on par with the Total Student Council President’s disappearance, maybe worse economically. Companies like Kanho are faltering in wartime.

The defense industry’s cheering. Trinity’s pushing rapid military expansion—I sent a request for 40 Caesar self-propelled guns this morning. Demand for firearms and ammo is soaring. Kazeyama’s stock rose over 20% in days.

No need to blame black market robots. They just seized a business opportunity and profited.

But… we’ve gotta show the line-crossing bastards who’s boss.

***

“With 71.8% in favor and 10.1% opposed, the motion is passed!”

Clang, clang, clang. The shareholder meeting was as usual.

For a non-intervention committee on the Trinity crisis, Kaiser Corporation, which meddled recklessly in Abydos, reversed course. The President took the podium, preaching absurd peace.

“We must apply the honorable market’s principles externally. The invisible hand grips Kivotos…”

The black market stock exchange holds 21.4%—not enough to control a democratic system. But everyone acknowledges Kaiser’s atop Kivotos’s 30,000 companies. Suited robots wield immense influence.

Kaiser’s President and Nephthys’s Izayoi—when you say “above all,” it’s them.

Who hasn’t thought of meddling in the tea ladies’ fight? With bigger players staying put, I was waiting for a chance, but Kaiser drove a wedge.

Corporate types scrambled to interpret it.

“Don’t touch my turf”? Or genuine peace wishes?

Reading a robot’s intent after hours of staring is tough. Nobody wants to go bankrupt unnoticed by crossing the President. Many had long thrown their stocks to “aye.”

Unbeknownst to even those who grasped the intent, the President issued one order.

“General, let’s run a test.”

“A test… sir?”

“Let’s see the Acting Commander’s character.”

Send a few squads to raid the ordnance bureau, engage lightly, then withdraw to gauge the Tea Party’s reaction.

The President’s a reasonable sort. A call would come, like before.

—KABOOOOOM!

“What’s that sound… the sky! Look up!”

“President, are you seeing this? Your doing?!”

The meeting’s attention turned to the noise’s source—a projectile slicing through clear skies.

A missile tore through black market airspace.

Most panicked or blamed rival firms, stirring chaos. But he watched. Through the unrelenting missiles. The Trinity’s radiant glow.

“…”

The President was speechless, his common sense shattered.

That evening, the shareholder meeting’s notes bore a brief remark: “Trinity Military Demonstration.”