Chapter 34: The Treasure Chest, Andre

Compared to the many flaws he possessed, Gorsky’s only merit was his ability to hold back the Yamato Empire's B-class divisions with just two ragtag territorial defense brigades. Yet, no matter how capable he was in battle, he hardly possessed the qualifications to serve as the commander of the Crown Prince’s private brigade. He lacked the status, the seniority, and the pedigree.

Just as public opinion began to stir, Zhang Shan struck with lethal precision. Using his father the Grand Duke's official seal, he ordered the summary execution of a brigade commander who had deserted his post in the Red Tower Province. It was a bold move, considering the man was a vassal to a vassal of the Beriaski family—the direct heir to a minor noble house with the title of Baron. In peacetime, Zhang Shan’s position would have been jeopardized immediately. But with the backdrop of the Yamato invasion and the assassination of the Far Eastern nobility, no one dared to speak up for such a coward.

Zhang Shan’s justification was irrefutable: "Suka blyat! Even I didn't run when the Yamato invaded; I organized my shattered remnants to crush them before retreating with the civilians and troops. How dare a mere Baron flee? If deserters go unpunished, then anyone can abandon their post."

It was a compelling argument. If the Prince himself didn't run, why should a minor Baron? That same evening, the unfortunate man was arrested by military police and hanged in the town square of his home city. In Racian culture, hanging is a brutal and disgraceful finality. It is rarely used unless the crime is heinous and the public outrage immense. As the coward who abandoned his troops and his people dangled, the crowd roared with approval, cries of "Ura!" echoing through every corner of the city.

The more perceptive nobles did not fail to notice that this wretch had been Gorsky’s direct superior—a man who had intended to use Gorsky as a scapegoat. By this cruel act, the Prince was declaring two things: desertion meant death, and Gorsky was under his personal protection. Anyone who touched Gorsky would answer to him. The potential ripples of discontent were forcibly smoothed over by Prince Andrei.

For now, no one was foolish enough to cause trouble for the Prince. Yet, eyes in the dark remained fixed on Gorsky; if this hero of the commoners failed to produce results matching his status, the post-war reckoning would be swift. War is the most volatile time for any nation. Risky reforms, cautious restructuring—for the sake of survival, things that would never be permitted in peacetime suddenly became possible.

Zhang Shan wielded his power with a stroke of his pen, claiming the three Far Eastern aviation groups for himself. Initially, the military establishment had little to say, but after witnessing two miraculous victories, poor Mikhail was pushed forward to test the waters.

In the General Staff headquarters, Mikhail stammered, "Your Highness, the divisions have finished their reorganization and are about to head to the front. The commanders are concerned about whether they will still receive air support. We have a few squadrons of I-16s left, but the pilots have only been in training for a month and may not be up to the task."

"Support? Of course there will be!" Zhang Shan promised, surprising everyone.

"Does this mean... Your Highness has secured air support from the other Electors?"

"Hmph! Don't even mention that dog of an Emperor." Zhang Shan made no effort to hide his contempt for Constantine XVIII. What kind of emperor acts this way? Stripping power is one thing, but helping a foreign enemy attack his own people just to weaken his subjects? If the Yamato weren't even more hateful, Zhang Shan would have raised a banner of rebellion long ago.

Mikhail asked cautiously, "Then..."

"The Aricans. I sent men to hire a hundred pilots. They will arrive with their planes in two weeks."

"What?!" The generals and staff in the room were stunned. In this day and age, planes were easier to procure than pilots. Everyone knew pilots were difficult to train; under normal circumstances, one couldn't even fly properly without a hundred hours of flight time. This was wartime—there was no time to cultivate a reserve force. Could pilots really be hired so easily? Was their Prince a treasure chest that could conjure anything with a wish?

This was a matter of information asymmetry. These infantry generals, who had likely never left the continent, had no idea that across the Pacific Ocean, in Arica, there were fifty thousand registered pilots—and ten times that if you counted the unlicensed flyers. Arica had vast plains and had been using planes for crop-dusting for years. Even if they mostly flew old biplanes from the Great War, the foundation was there. With a little training, they could seamlessly transition to fighter aircraft.

Moreover, the planes he had purchased were the P-26 "Peashooter" fighters, developed eight years prior. This biplane had a top speed of 377 km/h, a range of 1,000 kilometers, and was armed with two 7.92mm Browning machine guns and could carry 90 kilograms of bombs. It looked inferior to the I-16, didn't it? But consider the Yamato's land-based Type 96 fighter: a top speed of 414 km/h and three 7.7mm machine guns. Honestly, while weaker, it wasn't a total mismatch; with two extra machine guns added, it could certainly hold its own. Besides, with the I-16s handling air superiority, these Arican mercenaries were just there to help out and provide ground support.

At the time, the Arican army primarily used the P-26B/C. Zhang Shan, playing the "foolish spendthrift," bought their entire stock of second-hand P-26A models—which cost twelve thousand a piece—for thirty thousand Arican dollars each through "Commissioner Smith."

Don't laugh; the Aricans were desperate. As long as there was money, they would sell anything, even their own mothers! Three million Arican dollars sounds like a lot, but don't forget—it was the British who were footing the bill! As for the cost of hiring the pilots, compared to the planes, it was a mere pittance. Arica had yet to emerge from the Great Depression, and a crop-dusting pilot made barely over a hundred dollars a month at home. With a bit of persuasion, Zhang Shan had snagged them for an average of four hundred Arican dollars each.

When Anna distributed the technical manuals for the P-26A to Mikhail and the other generals, the room fell silent. Initially, they had feared Prince Andrei would interfere with military command, so they had distanced themselves, even collectively declining his private invitations. Who knew the Prince was such a powerhouse? He was like a magic chest, conjuring whatever was needed, and his strategic prowess was undeniable. While they were busy maintaining the front lines, the Prince had secured two major victories with just his private troops and Khanate cannon fodder. The Prince wasn't embarrassed; they were.

Now that the Prince had snatched up the I-16 and TB-3 fleets they had once looked down upon, he hadn't left them empty-handed, offering the low-spec versions as replacements to support the seven-division offensive. What could they say? They had to swallow their pride and accept it. Nowadays, many noble-born generals actually hoped the Prince would host a ball so they could pay their respects.

"Your Highness..." a greedy noble general began, but Zhang Shan raised a hand to stop him.

"You don't need to say anything. I don't care what you say; I only care about what you do. If you have the ability to produce real results, what would it matter if I upgraded your divisions to the standard of the Imperial Guard?"

What is charisma? This was charisma. In the past, people would have thought he was bluffing, but now everyone knew he was a man of his word. Without another word, the generals bowed to Zhang Shan in unison.