---Berlin, Germany, 24th November, 1940---

Hitler was quite amazed with Gallia taking German occupation not only willingly, but even aiding German forces.

The GRA, some sort of movement that was receiving aid from German forces, the SS in particular. Hitler figured that, if anything, anti-German sentiments would be through the roof in the aftermath of the invasion. While the GRA had a potent anti-Darscen streak, and the Nazi party was more-or-less neutral towards the dark-haired peoples, the GRA had decided that they would be better off aiding Germany, for both political and military reasons (such as the fact that they were certain Germany wouldn't hesitate in using a few front-line military units against them.)

But, aside from that, the GRA and the NSDAP had a lot in common. In some odd method, which Hitler didn't contemplate, both groups had ended up with considerable anti-semitic mindsets (possibly the NSDAP rubbing off on the GRA). It also cut down on the number of occupation troops actually needed in Gallia, having locals willing to help you and all.

This wasn't what troubled Adolf on this day, though.

It seemed that the relations between the Imperials and the Italians had gone stale, so to speak.

Either that, or Imperial pro-Valkyrur ideals conflicted with Mussolini's own ideas of rebuilding the Roman Empire. The Valkyrur and the Romans didn't like each other way back when, and that carried over into the 20th century.

Hitler also had to confess; Maximilian had duped him into thinking he was the actual leader of the Imperial Alliance, though it was, admittedly, for the better. That 'dupe' turned out to provide Hitler with a trump card in England, the Imperial general Selvaria Bles, who the British called, if his advisors were correct, the Azure Witch, or something to that affect.

But this did not change the fact that the Axis Powers could fall apart, and the Imperials and Italians could soon be squaring off against each other, just like the Roman-Valkyrur wars that caused the Valkyrur and Rome to fall in the first place.

"No!" Hitler screamed suddenly, to the surprise of the officers around him, as he banged his fist against the table in front of him.

Himmler was confused; he was reporting on the success of the campaign in England, and the Leader responded not only objectionably, but quite angrily so. They couldn't have been doing better of Bles was a native-born German/Valkyrur.

Well, maybe not that good. Perhaps it would have been better if she was German, perhaps even blond-haired and blue-eyed when she wasn't active.

"My leader? What is wrong? Aren't you glad that Sea Lion is successful thus far?"

Hitler turned to the leader of the SS. "I'll be frank, Heinrich," he began, "the war in Britain is not what troubles me. It's Imperial-Italian relations that are giving me metaphorical hell."

Himmler had remained in the dark about the relations between the two other Axis members.

"What do you mean, my leader?"

"It's like this, Heinrich," Hitler began, "The East European Imperial Alliance, and Fascist Italy have a bit of a history. It goes all the way back to the Roman and Valkyrur empires."

Himmler could recall a bit of this from history class. "If I remember correctly, my leader, the Romans and the Valkyrur were great allies, right?"

Hitler chuckled a bit, and turned back to the table. "That's only part of it. The alliance between the two was short-lived, it lasted about twenty years, when the Valkyrur king that forged the alliance with the Romans died. The next king acted aggressively against Rome, which ended up being the nail in the coffin of both empires. The resulting war ruined both. Though Rome eventually won, its economy was smashed, the military destroyed, and the people starving. The Roman and Valkyrur empires passed into the history books."

Himmler still did not see the similarities between the the Valkyrur-Roman relations and the Imperial-Italian ones, though how Rome had managed to face off against not only a Valkyria, but plausible armies of them, and not only hold their own, but win against such odds. No wonder Rome fell; such a war would have left them devastated.

"We need to draw their attention away from each other. We need a second front; one were forces from the three European Axis nations will fight..."

"What are you suggesting, my leader?"

"Russia..." Hitler spoke up, and stood tall. "Gentlemen, this coming spring will mark the beginning of the joint Imperial-German-Italian invasion of the Soviet Union."

The officers stared at the leader. They would immediately draw up plans for the German portion of the Assault, and diplomats would attempt to secure Imperial and Italian efforts.

---Outskirts of London, England, 25th November, 1940---

Marina was cleaning the Kar98k issued to her. In ways, it wasn't to dissimilar from the GSR-20 she used in the Gallian militia (she even thought one was a copy of the other at times). Both fired the same 7.92mm round. Both were satisfactory for sniping. And, amazingly enough, both could be used with the scope her father used during the first war, despite the scope being of Gallian build.

Perhaps they were the same rifle with a different designation, and nothing else.

"Corporal Wulfstan? May I have a word with you?"

The voice belonged to the Captain that replaced Varrot after her promotion. She never learned his name; he responded to just "Captain" fine enough.

"Corporal Wulfstan, get out of there! Squad H wants their halftrack back!"

Squad H. From that prick Werner. Marina was fairly certain she knew who took that shot. A British sniper she meet back in Gallia, Thomas Smith. Given Werner's treatment and overall opinion of Gallians, she kind of wanted to thank Tom.

"God damn it, Wulfstan! Get out of that halftrack! They stepped up the assault on London! Get back with your squad!"

"Sir! I'm not finished yet!"

"I don't give a damn! you can finish piecing your gun back together with your own squad!"

If she was any other person, she would have chuckled. The Captain had it set in his mind that cleaning and field stripping a gun were one in the same. He was partially right. Marina picked up the K98 off her lap, and got out of the Hanomag.

"Ok, H. She's out now."

---Southern London---

"So, Tom," the Bren gunner sitting casually next to the sniper began. "You told me a little bit, back in France, I think, about a Gallian sniper. Marina Wulfstan, was it?"

Thomas Smith shifted his weight, bringing the small cup to his lips. Even staring down the sights of about four different kinds of army group, Thomas still found time to have a calming cup of tea.

"Well, Edward," Tom began, "it was a few weeks ago, in Kent."

"One way or the other, Tom, you told me about her."

Edward took another sip of tea, then began talking.

"You're right, Edward. I suppose you want to know how I, a British sniper, from West Sussex, no less, came to know someone like her?" Tom didn't wait for a response. "I met Marina before you joined the British army. You joined a bit after the end of the war in Gallia, if I remember correctly. Moving right along, me and her decided to bet on, out of sheer boredom, who could nab the most Gerries in... an hour, I think."

"And you won, of course."

"Let me finish, Eddie. As I was saying, we picked our positions, and the hour started... yeah, it was an hour... and we started picking off the poor blokes one by one. I was... a bit slow. She came out a good few ahead of me."

"So, what'd you bet her?"

"Well, it was a few pounds I didn't have, because I thought I'd win. I still owe her..."

"Actually seems like you two were kind of friendly, Tom. How'd you get to hating her?"

Tom went to sip his tea again, but found the small tin cup empty. "You know, before I was in the same unit as you? Back in 5th Infantry?"

"Oh! Oh... oh god..."

"When about seven-eighths of the people you know get picked off by one person, you tend to develop a vendetta against that person, even if she's just doing her job."

Edward nodded. Made perfect sense to him. If Tom went turncoat, Edward was certain he'd be pissed off at the sniper. If Tom started picking off his buddies, Edward could see himself coming to hate the sniper, as well.

The two of them sat in silence in the deep bunker that had been built below a bakery, of all places. Tom chuckled a bit, he could think of a Gallian Militia sargent who would probably be up there baking bread, but he felt a bit guilty that her name escaped him.

The pounding of artillery above started reverberating through the bunker. The light flickered a bit.

Thomas got up, Enfield in hand. Edward did the same with his Bren gun, and the two of them, who weeks beforehand would have been swearing at each other, walked off to face a common enemy, the German Army.

---This Concludes Chapter 14---

I seem to be setting up Operation Barbarossa a bit early, Don't I? Although, unless I'm having a brainfart, Italian forces didn't take part in Barbarossa. I'll have to research this, but one way or the other, it gives me a reason to introduce some non-Germanic and non-Anglo characters – although, once the war shifts to Russia, you can expect to see more than one character telling Mother Russia's story. I'm also working names out for the Russian equivalent of the three groups, though it is implausible I'll give the Red Army a Valkyria. Think about it – Red Army vs. Botmoys (I botched that, Didn't I?), the Marmota, and Selvaria. Also, Alicia's Stalingrad dream may or may not come true.

Also, at some point in time, I intend to actually stop telling the story from an Axis POV. If Alicia's Stalingrad dream does come true, it would be from a Russian standpoint, anyway.

Also, review. It's A Good Way To Tell What's Wrong (tm).