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December 9, 1929
General Staff Office, Imperial Capital Berun
The nature and origin of mana was a poorly-understood phenomenon, even to those who possessed it. Less so the mechanics of how to use it, which were known to any aerial mage who'd undergone basic training. To an elite veteran, the function of mana was anything but a mystery.
Vectors, planes, stimuli, formulas - all of these were familiar to anyone who'd so much as placed their hand on an orb and directed their mana through the complex piece of machinery. Originally, they were handmade, crude instruments the size of a person, fixed in place and operated by a mage to perform a specific task. As time wore on, the components shrank in size until the precision and delicacy necessary to tool them could only be done by magic-assisted means.
The making of an orb left an indelible imprint on its inner workings, a dense concentration of matter altered by mana contained within the shell of the device. With certain spells, those traces could be detected. Of course, with no active flow, they didn't broadcast anything, it was impossible to trace at a distance, but at close range, the residue could be distinguished. Every Imperial customs checkpoint was equipped with a detection device and a mage to operate it. Anything significantly altered by mana would light up, orbs especially identifiable because of their shape, size, and high volume of ambient magic.
If it weren't for said specialized equipment, a hostile nation would need to do nothing more than send its soldiers on a personal vacation across the border, pack a small, inconspicuous container into a shipment of other goods, then sit back and watch as their enemy's capital was frozen by panic, the result the same as airdropping several pieces of artillery into the middle of the main square.
Hence, Tanya Degurechaff's current mood of frustration. The plan for after the war had always been first to stay out of trouble and second to secure a smooth path for her future. An intellectually-challenging career, a steadily-increasing salary, high risk of papercuts and overtime. The usual dreams of a salaryman.
Things hadn't gone exactly as desired. Losing the war had meant lowering some expectations. Her sacrifices so far had been few - her job was interesting, it paid decently, and it only involved discussing theoretical harm to other people. It wasn't her optimal career path, but on the most important point - the not constantly struggling against death part - she'd held her ground.
That was, until now. She'd built a peaceful, normal life with her own two hands, and rogue operators were threatening to tear it down. Armed with orbs and explosives, there would be few better targets than Berun generally, and government buildings specifically, one of which she happened to work in. Even if her office was safe, she sat a stone's throw away from the Reichstag, which puther life under an unacceptable level of threat.
Sure, she was curious to figure out how an orb could be made untraceable. There were experts for that, though, so as a matter of academic debate, she would have gladly left it for them to argue over. To the uneducated, she might seem like she could talk the talk, but in reality, she was as good a replacement for an engineer as a racecar driver was for his mechanic.
She had her own work to do, and she wasn't being paid to solve technical questions. On principle, Tanya was against doing a job for free. A functioning marketplace couldn't exist without price signals. That being said, when it came to her priorities, preserving her own personal safety had to take precedence over strict adherence to higher order values. Her beliefs wouldn't do her or anyone else much good if her brains were spilled open on the street. It was her duty to her continued wellbeing to give solving the question currently stumping the Army's brightest technical minds a shot.
She finished marking up the document she was reviewing, restacking the papers and finding the correct folder to return them to, her mind circling inexorably back to her life's most recent source of anxiety. She'd only come up with two explanations so far that didn't rely on an absurd number of coincidences or completely baseless conjectures about the exact nature of mana: supernatural intervention and human corruption.
Being X has a rap sheet a few kilometers long, but planting orbs in a convenient location for a Polaskan separatist to find them gives him far too much credit. We're talking about a creature that has all the subtlety of an advertisement for a "massage parlor" in a red light district. Indirect isn't his style. Maybe it isn't even in his vocabulary. For someone claiming to be superior to humans, he's awfully easy to outsmart. If it weren't for the fact that he's both a player and an overpowered referee capable of changing the rules on the fly, I'd be long rid of him. He couldn't mastermind a dinner party. I would like to hope that the Empire's investigative team has ruled out demonic intervention on the basis of logic, but they've undoubtedly sought out Schugel's advice on the matter, so I can't say for sure what odd notions he's assaulting the intelligence of rational men and women with.
That leaves me with the most likely option: corruption. Bribing customs officials is a tried and true method of trafficking illegal goods, in this case only slightly complicated by the international oversight in place. Few political loyalties can overcome a human's desire to hoard resources in the face of being presented cold, hard cash. No inconsistencies have turned up in any records or testimony as of yet, but all that proves is that the person responsible knows how to cover their tracks. New hires tend to be under the most suspicion in these circumstances, but a senior employee would have a better chance at pulling it off.
The only good news is the separatist mages are either untrained or are using first-generation technology. Based on the number of detonations the ballistics experts estimate took place, we aren't dealing with professionals. Any standard military-grade orbs-
Wait. Military-grade orbs. Military-grade orbs. Of course, Tanya muttered to herself.
The answer is so obvious it never even crossed my mind. It was a huge mistake to assume I could trust the reports saying the rebels are in possession of military models when I know there's no way to trace exactly which orb was used. Mass-produced orbs are a relatively new technology, and even most mages still have trouble understanding how much their presence alters battle tactics.
Up until the past decade, we were seen as nothing but a supporting role for artillery. Optical decoys were used so inconsistently they might as well have not existed. For fuck's sake, the field manual instructed us to disperse when facing an infantry formation, like we were helplessly flying 60 feet above them instead of equipped with defensive barriers and flying at the very limit of their reach. With that level of misinformation, if anyone ever thoroughly tested the capabilities of the most recent generation of commercially available orbs, I'll sell all my possessions and begin living as an ascetic monk.
Tanya reached for her phone, fingers rotating through the familiar pattern that dialed the main switchboard for the Intelligence office.
"Tanya Degurechaff for Captain Weber, please."
"And how may I be of service, Ms. Degurechaff?" Elya asked a half-minute later, her playful sing-song so identifiable she didn't need to announce that it was her.
"Do we keep records on manufacture, purchase, ownership of civilian orbs? Anything like that?"
"Not us, but I can call the right bureau."
"Have them pull everything from the past year and start combing through for purchases made in Oberschlesia, especially to companies headquartered there."
"I'll be on it right away."
She hung up and immediately rose from her seat. This was important enough to interrupt Lehrgen's afternoon over. She only just restrained herself from running down the hall. She was a professional working in an office, not a high-schooler late for class. It was beneath her dignity.
Her boss's door was open, but as soon as she turned to walk through it she paused, catching him in the middle of something. Paging back through her memory, she confirmed it was the first time she'd seen him with his glasses off. She could put the momentary distraction it caused down to being only human. She needed time to process something that until now had never been more than a vague awareness in the back of her mind. Besides, if she didn't get ahold of herself before she spoke, all her efforts to prove her competence would go to waste. Incapable of the most basic professional requirement - holding her emotions in check. The lip-biting, the hyperventilating, the tightness in her chest that made it difficult to swallow, none of those had any place in an office.
Being X put me in a world specifically calculated to piss me off. I can't forget that. I have to face the facts, even if I want to run and hide. It's possible that turning me into Tanya wasn't the only way he messed with my physical body. Who knows what other nasty surprises he has hidden.
Naively, I thought he was done with me after he dropped me here. What good is running an experiment if you're going to keep changing the parameters? Even lab rats have it better than I do. I learned that after I was given the Type 95. Now, I have to consider if my childhood was really as free of his meddling as I thought. I did almost nothing but read in a dim room for the six years between reacquiring full control of my mental faculties and enrolling in OCS. A perfect candidate for near-sightedness. I can't guarantee it was only good genetics that preserved my sharp eyesight. Even if it's unlikely, just the thought of Being X laughing while he made sure I had no escape from the life of an aerial mage makes me want to put a hole through the wall. This is the sort of time I really miss search engines. I'm not sure why anyone else would want to ask this, but the Internet was full of all sorts of weirdos. I can't be the first person to wonder how to safely make your vision deteriorate.
In the later years of the war, we got desperate. Desperate enough to start sending out soldiers with poor vision. That only applied to regular infantry, though. Mages are too valuable to sacrifice on a whim. Glasses would have made the distinction between child soldier and child laborer. A factory floor isn't an ideal atmosphere for a middle-schooler, but I would have volunteered for unpaid overtime and sweated it out pouring pre-made spells into bullets if it meant no bullets flew at me. Tanya the TNT Specialist doesn't have quite the ring of Rosie the Riveter, but I could've done without being famous. Or infamous, depending on who you ask. Even better, I might have simply been retired from the front lines to a permanent place on the General Staff like the lucky bastard I call my boss.
Tanya took another deep breath. If Lehrgen saw her seething in anger for no reason, he might tell her to come back once she'd cooled her head. Nobody wanted advice from a temperamental teenager. Even worse, he might think he was the target of her rage. Explaining the horror of not being able to rule out that something as minor as her visual acuity was safe from supernatural influence would make so little sense she might as well tell him in Japanese.
"I guess you were only around other people with perfect sight," he said, glancing at her out of the corner of his eye. "I didn't realize you'd find cleaning glasses so fascinating to watch."
Tanya cleared her throat and snapped out of her thoughts. The correct response was to use a little humor to gloss over being caught. "You could tell it was me without them on?"
"It's not that bad. I just can't make out detail at a distance anymore. I could get away without them half the time, but it's a pain to keep taking them on and off."
"When did you start wearing them?" she asked curiously. Backup plans were limitless. Nobody got court-martialed for faulty vision. She had to verify at what age she'd have to let go of any hope that it might serve as an excuse to avoid future conflict.
"I started needing them about ten years ago, right around the time I came back from the Commonwealth. Must've spent too much time hunched over missives at night," he told her, finishing the thorough job he was doing and replacing the glasses on his face. "I was afraid if I said anything that my matriculation into War College would be canceled so they could give my place to someone else. After I graduated, I knew I'd be allowed to stay on in an administrative role, and, well, frankly, that suited me just as well as being in the field."
Omitting some trivial information to further your career and permanently guarantee yourself safety in the rear? Now that's a colleague I can respect, Tanya thought, with a nod of approval. Well played.
"I always tell myself that not being able to see the board properly is the reason I didn't graduate first in my class."
"What place were you?"
"Third."
"Well, I hope you don't mind someone ranked eleventh questioning your wisdom-"
"Eleventh at age eleven is slightly more impressive."
"-but I think everyone might be on the wrong track with trying to figure out how military-grade orbs were illegally imported. Are we sure commercial-grade ones aren't capable of causing enough damage?"
She waited patiently for her boss to formulate a response, hoping that his frown of concentration indicated that he wasn't going to dismiss her question outright on the grounds of being absurd. Outside consultants questioning received wisdom often found themselves in a precarious position, a heretic among firm believers. That was especially true in a top-down organization like a military. A few became hailed as famous visionaries, but most were laughed out of the room.
"Do you have cause to believe that the specifications are faulty?"
She took a steadying breath, aware that she was treading into dangerous territory. Saying "yes" was the only response available to her if she wanted to be taken seriously, but at the same time, she'd be arrogantly asserting that she knew better than the experts. With no specific evidence to present, she was staking her professional reputation, second in importance only to her own life, on a mere conjecture.
"The aerial mage doctrine that was taught at the time I took control of my battalion failed to recognize the full potential of mages as combatants," she stated, drawing her shoulders back and projecting an air of absolute confidence. "With that in mind, I don't believe we can afford to ignore the possibility that the actual limits placed on orbs for general purchase fail to accurately reflect the intended ones."
"Coming from someone who made her mark on military history the way you did, a convincing argument," Lehrgen replied, words that suffused Tanya with the warmth of a successful investment paying off, her devotion to proving herself a reliable resource resulting in an immediate trust of her opinion.
"If I may volunteer myself for the task…?" she requested. Her previous experience with other mages suggested that leaving it to anyone else would only cause grief.
Lehrgen had been in the middle of picking up his phone, but paused. "We have other former aerial mages employed by the Army. You should keep enjoying your break from the battlefield."
"It'll be hard to replicate the excitement of battle without anything shooting back at me," Tanya replied, with a small smile at her sarcasm, "And while I respect the talents of my fellow aerial mages, my approach to magical combat tended to be unique."
"There's no disputing that," Lehrgen mumbled. Judging by his tone, he was genuinely upset that he had to assign an underage employee to firing weapons yet again. "There's no one else who can...hold on. Isn't it going to be a problem if we test spells that are only usable by elite mages?"
I have to concede that point with a nod to my boss's astute reasoning. Using myself as a reference, we'll be running a flawed experiment only designed to answer a question that's necessary to ask - what damage is theoretically possible to inflict using a commercial orb - but not the question that's the most pressing: what the average mage can do. I won't rule out that the mages participating in the rebellion are all elites, but assuming that to be so ignores basic statistical probability.
Besides putting an end to my daily commute through volleys of enemy fire, I can thank losing the war for one other thing: it put Being X's holy relic exactly where relics belong - locked up and jealously guarded. In other words, untouchable. I wasn't sorry to have an excuse to give up my Type 95, but my Type 97 was my most trusted sidekick. Orbs are something like a security blanket. Once you get used to having mastery over your environment, it's hard to adjust back to life without it. Even if it's only for an hour or two, I want to experience it again.
Legally, I'm too young to own a commercially-available orb, and even if I weren't, they're astronomically expensive. The victors of the war put a temporary ban on all orb production, military and commercial, under the assumption it would be too difficult to ensure materials and factories billed for commercial use weren't covertly operating as armaments facilities. Any new orbs for sale are foreign imports, and like any cartel, our recent enemies get a kick out of gouging us on price. Older Imperial models are cheaper, but scarcity has driven their cost up as well. I'll know I've really made it when I can buy one of them without bankrupting myself. As long as peace continues its glorious reign over Europa, this might be my last chance to handle an orb for the next two decades.
"I'm sure Intelligence will want a full report, so both the average and the limit need to be tested," Tanya replied smartly, appealing to her boss's diligent work ethic.
"I'll call over to Personnel and have them recommend someone suitable," Lehrgen told her, putting the phone to his ear and resuming the process of dialing. "And then we'll head out after I let General von Romel know."
"We should have an answer one way or another by the end of the day," she replied cautiously. Experience told her to invite as few witnesses as possible to events that might end in failure.
"If he hears we went to blow things up for research purposes and didn't invite him, we might as well might as well start drafting our resignation letters," Lehrgen replied with a wry smile, and Tanya couldn't help a short huff of laughter from escaping at the half-serious joke.
"Do you mind finding Lieutenant Sauer and asking him to get a car ready?" Lehrgen asked while he waited for his call to pick up.
"...yes, alright," she said, taking that as her cue to leave.
"Thanks. And Degurechaff…?" she paused and turned back around. "If this turns out to be true, I'll see what I can do as far as docking the pay of someone in Intelligence and adding it to your wages."
What a privilege it is to work for a boss that understands how to reward his employees, Tanya thought, this time needing to prevent herself from skipping merrily down the hall in search of Lehrgen's adjutant, a task which she usually would have done her best to delegate to one of the many willing ladies on their floor.
Her previous adventures in officework suggested that personal grudges between coworkers were to be avoided at all costs. Even if they didn't get her killed a second time, they could get her fired. A company had no reason to tolerate toxic behavior that brought down productivity. Logically, as an employee with proven value, she should be insulated from being handed her notice. Realistically, the decision often came down to who was easier to get rid of.
An irregular employee whose name didn't appear on the official payroll or an officer who had signed on for a minimum commitment of fifteen years' service? The choice was clear. She had to keep a handle on her personal feelings about Lehrgen's adjutant or she'd be out the door.
First Lieutenant Ernst Sauer. His fault isn't with his work. Never late, helpful to a fault, assignments all completed in a timely fashion. In other words, competent at his job. I couldn't ask for more in a colleague. More specifically, I don't want more out of a colleague.
I'll gladly go along and agree with the office typists in bestowing the title of "God's gift to women" on him. Unneeded, unwanted, harmful to my mental health, something I'd tie a stone to and drop into the Mariana Trench if it wouldn't land me in jail. Just like Being X's other "blessing".
Apparently, he considers flirting with every woman in his presence something of a public service. I complained to one of the secretaries once and was accused of jealousy, like I would want to be on the receiving end of the targeted barrage reserved for the girls he's actually interested in. I'm lumped in with the married, old, or otherwise unattractive women in the office, which means I only have to put up with some of the smiling and playful gesturing. Being flirted with out of pity is almost worse than the alternative.
Tanya turned a corner, sighing at what she found. Why am I not surprised? she groaned.
"Lieutenant Sauer," she barked out sharply, butting into a conversation he was having with two typists that looked suspiciously unrelated to work, unless Lehrgen hadn't informed her that his adjutant's duties included acting as an agent to set up double dates. In that case, she'd been handed the awkward task of finding a way to inform her boss that the man he'd entrusted with that important job was planning on taking both for himself.
"Ma'am!" he squeaked out with a frightened glance in her direction, posture going rigid, but giving her a sheepish smile a second later nonetheless. The charmingly bashful face had her on the verge of forgiving him before she caught herself. I'm not going to let that work on me, she lectured herself irritably.
"General von Lehrgen needs his car readied. General von Romel may need one as well, get a second one going just in case. And make sure there's a fresh cup of coffee waiting for me too."
Honestly, Sauer didn't make very good coffee at all, so she wasn't looking forward to drinking it. What she was looking forward to was the look on his face when she poured it on the street and told him he better not serve her something like that again. Fear was the fastest teacher of all. The sooner he realized that acting cute wasn't going to result in her going easy on him, the better. And he might even learn to make a serviceable cup as a result. She could blame it on taking her coffee too seriously if he ran crying to their boss.
"Yes, ma'am, immediately."
The moment of petty payback a few minutes later did wonders for her mood. By the time Lehrgen joined them, another officer in tow, she could present a pleasant face to the world.
Women in uniform were an oddity now that the war was over. Tanya took stock of the person selected to assist her while she descended the steps. She looked to be in her mid-forties, solidly built without appearing overweight, brown hair that was already half-gray pulled back into a sensible braid.
"Captain Henriette Backhaus," she introduced herself, sticking out her hand to shake.
Tanya gave her name in return and reached out her own hand, but Backhaus's was withdrawn so quickly their fingers didn't even brush, drawing up into a precise salute that gave Tanya the immediate impression that they would get along. Serious professionals could always find common ground.
"It's an honor, ma'am."
"General von Romel will meet us at Summersdorf's artillery field in an hour and a half," Lehrgen informed her as he ducked into the front seat of the car. "I called ahead to the Bureau of Controlled Goods, they keep a model of every commercial orb in circulation for research."
If the man who greeted them when they arrived there was any indication, the new government was just as set on wasting her money as the last. At this rate, tax evasion was going to become a civic duty. Mainly, Tanya was impressed by how well he fulfilled the stereotype of lifelong bureaucrat: pale, flabby, owlish eyes blinking out from behind thick glasses and hair parted so unfashionably that even she noticed. He'd evidently woken up that morning undecided on whether he was feeling more self-important or more servile, so he'd combined the worst parts of both and called it a day.
"Alfred Klusmann, Chief Tester of Commercial Orbs. I must say it is most unusual to be visited by a Brigadier General," he introduced himself, mainly addressing Lehrgen and ignoring those he judged inferior. That suited Tanya just fine, giving her lips the chance to curl up into a smug grin.
If this is the man who tests the orbs, then I'm more confident in my prediction than ever. He looks like he majored in Orthodox Thinking with a focus on Lack of Accountability. If I ever need an author for a 200-page report that quotes important-sounding statistics without saying anything meaningful, I'll know who to call. From an organizational standpoint, I have nothing but deepest respect for an employee who can adeptly use the excuse of "the directions didn't say so" to avoid blame, but I don't need to read minds to know an original thought would be so alien to his brain that his immune system might attack the neurons responsible for it.
"You were informed of my request to allow the Army to run a few tests on the orbs ourselves?" Lehrgen asked. As usual, he didn't waste time chatting with a perfect stranger.
"Please, be my guest. I presume the Captain here is going to be the one performing them, if I could see her identification we can…" he trailed off, eyes stopping on Tanya, adjusting his glasses and blinking rapidly. Do I have something on my face? she wondered. "I-is this-are you-my apologies, I didn't recognize you at first, I-hold on," he stuttered, turning and opening one of his drawers, pulling a piece of paper out and presenting it to her.
"Would you sign this for me?" he asked. Tanya looked down. She blinked. She recoiled in utter disgust.
This has to be a fucking joke. If it's not, please let it be a bad dream. People kept copies of that propaganda poster? For what? No, never mind. It's dangerous to think too hard about that. Despite my appearance, I don't have the innocent mind of a sixteen-year-old girl. I need to focus on my work; I can't get distracted by heaving up my lunch. Let's think positive thoughts. Everyone who has a personal copy of it keeps it to remind them how tragic war is if children have to fight on the front lines.
"Herr Klusmann," Captain Backhaus snapped, before Tanya could get her gaping mouth to respond, "we're here on official business. Degurechaff is a decorated hero, not a showpiece."
It feels like it should be wrong to be having a moment of solidarity with a woman, but at times like these, we have to stick together. She chose to pursue a career, so she's also struggled against having her value reduced to how pretty she is and how pleasantly she can smile. A well-maintained physical appearance is invaluable for making a good impression, but there's nothing more insulting to an industrious intellectual like myself than the implication that someone believes it's my best quality.
"A-apologies," Klusmann winced obsequiously, withdrawing the hated print, a still taken from the video shoot overlayed with writing reminding citizens on the homefront that sacrifices were expected of them as well. "But orbs aren't just my work, they're my favorite hobby. Ms. Degurechaff performed miracles with the Type 97, things the mechanics shouldn't allow for. I assure you, I fully respect her talents."
Well, an orb otaku was better than the alternative. She could overlook her exploits being termed miracles. At least she didn't need to worry about maintaining several meters distance at all times. It was irritating he'd mixed up her two orbs, though. She shouldn't have to straighten out the details for someone who claimed to be obsessed with them.
"My Type 97 wasn't the one-"
"She was given a prototype version. It was tuned differently than the orbs meant for mass production; it wasn't the one that everyone else had," Lehrgen interrupted.
Her boss was not so subtly telling her to stay on topic. She was slipping if she needed to be reminded that an irrelevant clarification wouldn't accomplish anything. Though that result could've been achieved without the lie; she'd need to follow up later to make sure they were on the same page about the status of the Type 95.
"Still, based on the documents I've seen, even an improved model-"
"Herr Klusmann, the orbs, if you would."
"Yes, sir, right away, if I could please see identification? It's a formality, but the rules must be respected, you understand."
Tanya produced her identity card from her bag, handing it over after Captain Backhaus's had been given a cursory inspection. Klusmann hesitated.
"Is there a problem?" she asked. It wouldn't be surprising after the trouble she'd had getting it issued. Emancipated minors were unusual cases even for states with functioning bureaucracies. A year ago, the Empire had barely qualified as such.
"I beg your pardon, I would have said something earlier, Ms. Degurechaff, I didn't realize you intended to be more than an observer. As you aren't eighteen yet, it would be illegal for me to allow you access to the orbs."
To an extent, Tanya could sympathize with Klusmann's position. Laws existed to be obeyed. A healthy respect for rules and regulations made the world a civilized place. That didn't mean the irony was lost on her. At ten, she'd been handed a device that could mimic a warhead's payload, but at sixteen, she was being told not to touch one only good for making fireworks.
"Fine, we can discuss that later. Now, if you'd release your orbs into the possession of Captain Backhaus so that we might be off to Summersdorf…?"
Tanya shot Lehrgen a glare for having agreed to cancel her planned afternoon of fun without a fight. Why work so hard to get promoted if he wasn't going to use his position to make life easier for him?
"Summersdorf, sir?"
"I believe it was communicated to you that we needed to test the orbs; Summersdorf is the nearest proving ground."
"Sir, I'm afraid that's going to be impossible," Klussman said, with a mincing dip of his head that made Tanya want to grab him by the hair and force him to either stand up straight or bow properly.
"I'm happy to have you accompany us if you believe it necessary."
"Sir, you must understand, there are procedures for requesting the orbs be taken offsite, some of these would be quite difficult to replace if something were to happen to them, not to mention expensive."
"The Army will be happy to reimburse your office in the case it is necessary," Lehrgen countered. The undercurrent of irritation belied his patient words, triggering a belated realization in Tanya. I'll need to get back into practice with that if I want to climb the corporate ladder.
It's been so long since I was required to tolerate this type of attitude from those beneath me without chewing someone's ear off that I've almost forgotten how. I need to take a page out of my boss's book and get back to standard office procedure - acting like I care about the feelings of incompetent wastes of time.
Rapidly, Klusmann is becoming an example of one of my least favorite forms of coworker - the obstructionist. My respect for someone who uses the rules to their advantage only extends so far. Refusing to deviate from them even when it's clear that it's the right thing to do is just asking for your job to get automated. If you don't want to use the part of your brain that controls critical thinking, that's your choice, but don't bitch about it if your salary gets cut too low for you to be comfortable. You've already given up on behaving like a human being, so you don't deserve to live like one.
Klusmann failed to take the hint and instead took a file out of one of his drawers, paged through and drew out a few pieces of paper. "Yes, yes, I'm sure, you have a much less...restricted budget than I do. Here are the forms, everything should be approved within two days, and then we may proceed to-"
"Do I need to remind you that this is a matter of national security?" Lehrgen asked, doing a good imitation of the resentment that Tanya felt welling up in her own gut. "If I could buy all of these at the nearest jeweler I would, but we don't have time to visit every damned shop in Berun hunting down each model. Now, would you like me to get the director of the bureau on the line to let him know that you've declined to give them to me?"
"Sir, please, I'm just trying to do my job."
"And I mine," Lehrgen said with a chilling finality that Tanya's voice could no longer imitate.
When you're an imposing man with a menacing stare like my boss, or myself in my previous incarnation, it's easy to forget how lucky you are that people take your threats seriously. Until I had the Silver Wings pinned on my jacket, I could never guarantee that I'd be treated with all due respect. There was one guy who wouldn't shut up about telling me he wouldn't take orders from someone with a little-kid voice until I drew a blade on him and made him think I'd really kill him for it. Some people have to learn not to judge a book by its cover the hard way. If you want to complain about children in the military, it's just common sense to complain to the officers in charge. Why bother the child about it?
Klusmann swallowed, picked up a notebook, and wrote out a few lines. "Then if I could have your signature here to authorize their release…?"
She watched Lehrgen scratch out a messy signature, so different to the elegant, looping lines she was accustomed to reading at the bottom of her papers.
"And if I might take you up on your offer that I accompany you…?"
"What do you know about the history of orbs?"
"Humbly, sir, I consider it my area of expertise."
"Good. I'm sure Ms. Degurechaff will have some questions for you."
Tanya never would have asked to be anywhere but the middle seat when they climbed in the car - as the smallest person, it was only logical - but when Captain Backhaus insisted on placing herself there instead, she wasn't going to object. In the future, she'd have to do a better job of remembering that meatshields weren't only useful in battle. They could keep all sorts of unwanted things from touching you.
Narrowing her questions down into a few focused inquiries was a must. They didn't have time for a full interrogation. Her education on the subject was sorely lacking - it had been nothing but a brief recitation of facts and dates related to the history of magic. It was an unforgivable oversight on her part not to have read up on how it was treated from a legal standpoint. A dereliction of duty to her life's purpose. If she went into law, the first thing she'd fight for was a worldwide moratorium on researching orbs with more than two cores, and from there she could see about a magical disarmament agreement.
The scope and severity of the problem would be made clear at the artillery ground. A critical step for damage control, but next to useless as a preventative measure. Determining how the mistake was made was the only way not to repeat it. For that, she'd need to start from the beginning.
"When orbs were originally designed, how was the delineation made between military and commercial grades?" she asked, leaning forward a little and turning her head inwards towards the other occupants of the car.
"Well, going back before mass production, the first mechanical orb was the-,"
"The short version, please," Lehrgen interrupted from the front, the please coming out so threatening Tanya heard it as more of an or else.
"Ah...yes, sir. Ahh, military-restricted orbs, let's see. That would have been in 1847 when the Archimede Company showed off its newest design, which had the capacity to handle the mana necessary for propulsion above a hover, although it could only reach an altitude of about fifty feet, as I'm sure you know. It was actually the police making a statement that this would allow criminals to escape beyond reach that caused a panic."
"Explosive capability didn't concern anyone before that?" she asked incredulously. Reason dictated that deadly would have been the more pressing issue. A police officer should prefer an escapee in a fast car to one in a tank.
"Well, what you have to understand is that at the time, the idea that you could use something ordinary like a rifle as a mana-focuser was very new, so it hadn't yet become a public safety issue. And then, as now, orbs were prohibitively expensive for the average person to purchase, they were meant only for industrial applications where the cost could be justified. The price was well beyond the means of a common thug, only organized crime could afford them for nefarious purposes."
"And the military became involved how?"
"Shortly thereafter the Army and government generally became interested, someone who could fly would of course be capable of escaping border controls, spying on military installations or otherwise getting places they weren't meant to be. Incidentally, you can trace the development of mana detection equipment to around the same time, you know it's an interesting story, the-"
"How did the government decide what restrictions would be put on orbs for commercial purchase?" Tanya interrupted, not wanting to waste time with whatever story was about to come pouring out. She was interested, but she was more interested in taking steps to contain their potential national emergency.
"As you might expect, there was much debate, there were calls for banning them entirely, but ultimately, an input limit was put in place, it's a...rather heavy-handed way of restricting usage but it prevents strong mages from being able to force an orb beyond the desired capacity and there's a beauty in the simplicity, a manufacturer can't design a way to get around something so broad the way they could if we tried to specify individual limits like the flight component may only receive this much mana and the reinforcement barrier that, which the makers say would be almost impossible to do anyway, so-"
"There's an input limit, but no output limit?" she stressed, grabbing at the back of the seat in front of her as the car went around a sharp curve so she didn't put all her weight on her seatmate. Though, come to think of it, Captain Backhaus looked sturdy enough to handle 45 kilograms. This was a first for her. She'd never overestimated the competence of a regulatory agency before.
"Ms. Degurechaff, surely you're aware that's impossible, the cores are designed to overheat if too much mana is poured into them at a sustained rate but-"
"I know how to operate an orb, not design one," she replied, rolling her eyes. She was the one asking questions here. She shouldn't have to defend her own knowledge to some pompous bureaucrat. "I overheard some of it from Schugel's demented rantings, but how applicable-"
"Please don't refer to the great Doktor that way," Klusmann pled. "He's a pioneer in his field, a-"
"Right, right, yes," Tanya interrupted. The last thing she needed in her life was an extended reflection on Schugel's greatness. Another side benefit of the ban on orb production was that he'd been forced into early retirement. "So no output limits."
"No, but the input-to-output ratio was calculated and is recalculated based on average loss rates when new models come out. We aren't unaware that orbs have been improving in efficiency."
"Who did the baseline testing?" she asked, in lieu of the reply she wanted to give, which was something along the lines of Congratulations for not being a complete idiot. Klusmann was so busy being proud of himself he may not have caught the condescension.
"That was sixty years ago, it's no longer relevant to-"
"Do you compare current results to the baseline tests?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Then I'd say it's relevant."
"It was a thorough test, I can assure you, not only were adults with the highest mana capacities asked to participate but companies nominated their best employees, who might know how to do more intricate spellwork even if their capacity was no more than average."
"And the participants from the Army, what-"
"E-excuse me for interrupting, but I need to stop you there. There were no aerial mage units at the time, so any participation from the Army was incidental."
"So none of the mages had combat experience?" came out in a strangled cry. She was so distracted she didn't realize the car was coming to a sudden stop. She hadn't braced herself for it, and would have flown into the seat in front of her if it weren't for Backhaus throwing an arm across her lap.
How should I put this. Asking someone who's only used an orb under controlled conditions to push the limits of its design is like asking an Olympic medalist in figure-skating to go win the gold in gymnastics. Sure, some of the fundamental requirements are similar - strength, balance, artistry, flexibility, tolerance for landing face-first on a hard surface - but it's the details that make it a different sport. A mage whose life doesn't depend on the quality of their artillery spells will never think the same way as one who's flown through a hailstorm of bullets.
"Of course some did from previous service, but not as dedicated orb-equipped soldiers," Klusmann answered, while she rearranged herself back into a comfortable position.
"And since then, your office has been responsible for ensuring compliance with the regulations?" Tanya asked, glancing in the rearview mirror and seeing that both Lehrgen and Backhaus were making the same grimace that she was.
"That is correct."
"The testing procedure?"
"A series of different ones. First, in our lab, mana is poured into the core and the temperature is measured to ensure it begins overheating as designed when it reaches the limit. Afterwards, practical applications, a flight spell, a defensive barrier, a detonation and the like, to ensure the output doesn't exceed expected parameters."
"And who is responsible for performing those tests?"
"I am, ma'am."
"Your qualifications?"
"Unusually high mana capacity and my theoretical knowledge of spellwork was far above the other candidates, if I do say so myself."
An adult still bragging about his entrance exam score, Tanya scoffed to herself.
"Practical qualifications," she stressed.
"Ma'am, I've been doing it for twenty years, at this point there's no one more qualified to-"
"When you served your required time in the Army, did you participate in any active conflict?" she asked, cutting to the chase, letting go of any attempt to spare Klusmann's feelings.
"Ahh, well. Congenital issue with my left lung left me unfit for service, though I was pulled away from my usual job for industrial work during the last year of the war."
"You've never even touched a military-grade orb?" she practically screeched.
This was the worst. First off, if anyone was going to be born with an issue like that and handed a career where taking it easy was part of the job description, it should have been her. Some people would never know how good they had it. Second, she assumed a baseline of competence at spellwork out of any mage that had lived through conflict. Even before the war, the Empire had been involved in a number of armed scuffles. This puffed up academic couldn't even give her that.
"When I was initially evaluated for my job I was allowed access to one to verify that my knowledge wasn't simply theoretical, and I'm retested every five years. Begging your pardon ma'am, but I could construct as grand a spell as anyone, yourself perhaps excluded."
Grand was not the issue here. Efficient was the issue. Anyone with enough power could make something that looked pretty. It took a hell of a lot more skill to make it compact.
"So for the past twenty years, no one who has practical experience with combat-style spells has been asked to give an opinion on the destructive capacity of commercial-grade orbs?" Tanya asked, rubbing at her temples. "Who held the office before you?"
"That would have been a former corporal after he retired from service."
"A corporal? A corporal? You couldn't do better than a corporal?"
Klusmann glared at her crossly. She'd admit that last comment had been pushing it, but she only had her boss to answer to. He had his own bones to pick with their guest.
"Talented mages usually find jobs in manufacturing, and unfortunately a government bureau can't afford to pay the same wages. I chose to pursue a more cerebral job than one working on a factory floor, and did it at the expense of my pocketbook."
She refused to use the word miracle to describe the situation. It wasn't. It was a beneficial side-effect of the market economy. Capable mages rarely found themselves unemployed. Thus, they had little incentive to turn to crime. That in itself had been hiding a massive problem - in the right hands, commercial-grade orbs were almost certainly capable of doing things they weren't designed for.
"Okay," Tanya sighed.
She closed her eyes, more than anything needing to retreat into her head. They were nearing Summersdorf, and before they got there, she had a few things to work out. Most importantly, what sorts of spells she needed to ask Captain Backhaus to try on her behalf. She might have been able to excuse wasting her own time, but she had two generals counting on her. She couldn't afford to wait until she was standing on the field to make a decision.
"I'm sure you'll be interested to hear, the Unified States has a new model coming out soon, it's really something-"
"Please let me think," she requested, without opening her eyes.
"You know, you're not very much like I imagined you."
The risks of responding to that statement were too great. Klusmann didn't need to imagine scenarios including her. At all. Ever. And if he had, he could keep the details to himself.
"You looked very charming in the poster."
She heard Lehrgen give a short laugh from up front. "You aren't nominated to command the Empire's most elite battalion because you smile at the right people."
Despite what he'd just said, Tanya had to bite the inside of a cheek to keep the grin off her face. Nothing formed a rapport more easily than mutual dislike of the same person. Even if she enjoyed it, she had to keep her face straight. She couldn't even smile at some people without giving them the wrong ideas.
Romel was already there when they arrived, and they followed his car along a winding path that led out to an abandoned construction site.
"We were building a new observation tower when the war ended. It's not the same as a bridge, but steel beams are steel beams," he said with a shrug. "I've taken the liberty of authorizing its demolition."
Aside from the half-built tower, her quick survey indicated that the detritus of the unfinished construction provided an ample number of targets. Wooden crates and pallets, corrugated paneling, even an old truck. A few members of Summersdorf's security guards had helpfully provided a range of weapons and ammunition laid out alongside a few types of explosives.
Tanya let her eyes roam over the goods, then turned to the man she had to grudgingly acknowledge as an expert on the subject.
"What's the most common orb in circulation?"
"That would be the Bentzinger Drachen, Ms. Degurechaff, it's a beautiful model, the-"
"Thank you," she interrupted. He could probably go on about it for days if no one stopped him. "Let's start with that one."
Klusmann nodded, withdrawing a silk bag from the ornamental wooden box he'd packed the orbs into.
"Please be careful, if you would, these can't handle the sort of strain you're used to putting on them," he warned Captain Backhaus.
Tanya kept her silence and watched while the older woman took the orb in hand, selected a rifle, loaded it, then trained it on a pile of crates. The spell she built was uninspired but reasonably efficient. It was the product of a mage who'd survived a war, not one who'd never left an office. Backhaus squeezed the trigger, and a second later the stack of wood exploded in a spectacularly anticlimactic fashion. Only a few pieces hurdled outwards from the scene; the rest collapsed in on itself.
Romel gave a whistle that said he was impressed, but Tanya didn't share the feeling. For a first try it wasn't bad, but she couldn't credit it with anything more. She'd never used a similar orb, but she'd be disappointed if she couldn't do several times better with a few weeks of practice.
"It...it shouldn't be able to do that," Klusmann said weakly. She'd never met a mage who got shaken up by such a minor detonation. It might have been more deadly than intended, but she could have made a homemade bomb with more power using nothing but ingredients from her local pharmacy.
Backhaus moved on to the next target - a basic mental container. The spell-building went faster this time, in a matter of seconds her bullet sailing towards her chosen victim. It tore a meter-wide hole through the metal where the spell had been focused, but didn't otherwise compromise the material. If that was all the destructive power the orb had, things weren't looking good for her.
Next was the real test, the unfinished tower. A spell, a pull of the trigger, and - nothing. Well, not nothing. It took a small chunk out of the beam, but structurally, everything held together without issue. A few mages aiming at once might generate enough power to damage a single beam at a time, but that would take upwards of ten minutes to trigger a collapse.
Fuck. This is embarrassing, she thought, hot shame pulsing through her chest. Orbs like the one being tested might be effective as a threat against the local police forces, but they weren't going to be taking down infrastructure anytime soon. Backhaus's spells weren't anything special, but at best an elite might be able to double the firepower of her most recent one. After she dragged everyone away from work over nothing, Tanya would be lucky if Lehrgen didn't dock her pay instead.
There was one spot of hope: if the Drachen was the most popular it would stand to reason that it was one of the cheapest. That introduced the possibility of it being one of the weakest.
"In your professional opinion, which orb is most powerful?" Tanya asked, lifting her head.
"Well, that new American orb will be when it comes on the market," Klusmann told her, apparently still hurt that she hadn't wanted to hear about it, "but for now, I'd say the Commonwealth's newest model, the Scofield Victoria."
Goddammit, Tanya cursed, wishing there was something in front of her to kick, when the results failed to be significantly different on the second round. The explosions had been more powerful, both due to the orb and slight improvements to spell design, but they still weren't near enough to threaten sturdy buildings.
"Well, we should try the rest just to be sure," Romel said, the disappointment evident in his tone. "It was a good thought."
"And we are now aware of certain deficiencies in the oversight process," Lehrgen added, which made Tanya wince at how obvious it was that he was trying to make her feel better.
"There were traces of explosives found at the same sites where magic was detected, correct?"
"Yes," Romel answered, clearing his throat, "but not enough."
At this point, she was grasping at straws. As Romel had pointed out, there wasn't enough residue at those locations for a chemical reaction to have done much damage, even if it was enhanced by magic. There was nothing worse than people who couldn't admit when they were wrong, except in rare cases. Cases like giving an overfed know-it-all the satisfaction of being right.
"May I see the photographs again?"
Romel's adjutant proffered a folder containing pictures of the damage, which Tanya eyed carefully for clues. Looking at it, there was nothing obvious for her to blame. A bridge in pieces, half-submerged in the river, the cuts in the steel evidence of where it had been compromised, but - Hold on. Cuts? A cut? she thought, beginning to form an idea. First, she had to check the other photos. When she did, a clear pattern emerged - only the bridges destroyed with magical assistance looked like they'd been sliced instead of blown away.
"I know how they did it," she announced, grabbing for some of the explosives in her hand and jogging over to the watchtower, full of energy at having persevered through her latest crisis. She picked up a ladder along the way for good measure, since she wouldn't be able to reach high enough to affix her charges properly without it.
"Detonate them," she instructed Captain Backhaus when she returned, slightly out of breath and leaning over to put her hands on her knees, "but focus the energy in a single direction only."
Creating enough explosive power to separate a steel beam in half with magic alone was clearly beyond the limits of the commercial-grade technology, but manipulating the force of a detonation so that it sheared cleanly through something instead of bursting outward in all directions wasn't. It was a step beyond the basics, but with a little practice almost any mage would be capable of doing it.
With bated breath, Tanya watched as Captain Backhaus fired her weapon, then let out a sigh of relief at the result.
She began to pace back and forth as she thought. I'm on the right track. It hadn't been sliced in two, but there was a clear cut running partway through the steel. The spell Backhaus had built packed a decent amount of explosive punch given that she also needed a directional component, so it couldn't be blamed on inefficiency.
What am I missing? she wondered, surveying the items in front of her for an answer. Arrange the explosives differently? Different orb? Different gun?
The main question I need to solve for is how to maximize the output for a fixed amount of explosives. The consensus is that the rebel faction couldn't come up with the desired amount of incendiary material, so needed to use magic to enhance their power. Even in the locations where all destruction was done without the aid of magic, they relied on another powerful force - gravity. The way the metal tore suggests that they only destroyed enough of the support structure to weaken it into collapsing under its own weight; they couldn't pack enough in to make it cleanly break away.
"Pressure," she heard called out from behind her. She turned, and saw Lehrgen waving at her apologetically. "Sorry to interrupt you, but just based on physics, if you could artificially increase the amount of pressure, would it work?"
I guess you could say this is the benefit of surrounding yourself with intelligent people. My boss might not have a degree in chemical engineering, but his job requires a range of general knowledge. My War College curriculum was unfortunately limited due to time constraints, so I have to face up to the fact that I haven't taken a real science class in more than thirty years. Anyway, I'm not being paid enough to solve all these problems by myself. It's high time someone else contributed.
Tanya nodded. "I need to try something," she told Klusmann, pointing at the box he was holding with the orbs.
"Ms. Degurechaff, as stated previously, you cannot-"
"Permission granted," Romel interrupted. Klusmann opened his mouth, but after catching the look in Romel's eye, it snapped shut so audibly Tanya wouldn't be surprised if he'd cracked a tooth.
She picked up the first orb, letting the familiar flow of mana feed into it, careful to restrict it slightly below the stated capacity. With the Type 95, she'd never needed to worry about constructing spells in a way that maximized efficiency. But when she'd used the Type 97, she would have struggled to keep up with her men if she hadn't come up with some creative ways of minimizing expenditure. She was somewhat above average when it came to her mana capacity, but without the Type 95 she didn't have enough to easily compete with monsters like Visha and Weiss.
She watched her creation build before her eyes, pleased with the outcome after almost two years where she'd foregone anything beyond simple enhancements like body reinforcement or reheating her bathtub. After assessing it critically for errors, she released her mana, then picked up a second orb and repeated the process.
"Here," she said, presenting the one with which she'd been able to construct the most potent spell. "What's this one?"
"That would be the Kienzel 4," Klusmann replied. "Used for mainly for mining and smelting."
"Common in Oberschlesia then, I take it?"
He tapped his chin. "It's an older model, so it's not as popular anymore, but yes, at one point most of the big mining operations in the area would have owned a number of them."
"Good. Should be easier to trace that way. Try this one," she said, handing it over to Backhaus. "Did you see the pressurizing spell I made? Can you add that?"
The other woman nodded, and Tanya ran back over to the watchtower as fast as her legs could carry her to tape more explosives on. She was rewarded with a satisfying crack a minute later, the tower listing a few degrees to the left as one of its supports was severed.
A hand clapped down on her shoulder and she looked up, seeing Romel smiling down at her. "Sounds like I owe someone a drink."
A drink would be nice, but that raise Lehrgen mentioned would be nicer. She'd have to remind him about that.
Thankfully, Tanya wasn't the only one who didn't want Klusmann to dampen the festivities. He was booted out after a warning not to speak about what he'd seen until further notice. Backhaus had confided in her that she had an eleven-year-old nephew to care for after the war had left him parentless, so she took her leave as well.
The beer hall recommended by Romel's adjutant was partially underground and smelled it. Compared to the trenches, the scent of musty basement wasn't so bad, so Tanya followed without hesitation as Romel cut a path to the bar. Apparently, the establishment boasted the widest selection of beer in the city. Her knowledge of the world of Imperial brews was limited, so she took a stab at the menu quite literally, ordering what her finger landed on. She figured there was little risk with that maneuver. Living in a country world-famous for the drink had its perks.
After Romel opened up his wallet and slapped a few bills into the hands of the younger men with an admonition that they still needed to be fit to drive, she was left alone with her two superiors and a mug of cold beer.
"So," Romel asked, wiping his mouth after he drained almost half his glass in one go, "how much damage could most of those orbs do?"
"I expect that a member of my battalion could have roughly doubled the output of what you saw today," Tanya answered promptly, already having given consideration to that question during the car ride. "Besides that, a basic optical illusion could be maintained with most of the orbs. Small alterations to facial features and hair color would be all it takes to make someone disappear into the crowd, and someone in possession of one could maintain full-body strength enhancement and pain-blocking spells almost indefinitely."
I can't blame Romel for his wide-eyed reaction. I've just told him that he has an entirely new threat to account for. A terrorist, a super-soldier, and a shapeshifter all in one convenient rogue-citizen package. The world's most tasteless three-in-one special imaginable. I'm sure our lawmakers will eventually get around to putting stricter limits in place, but for now confiscating all commercial orbs would bring the economy to a screeching halt. If there's a faster way for a party to get itself voted out of office than getting its voters laid off, I haven't seen it.
"Well, as always, you've given me a lot to think about," Romel replied, gulping down the other half of his drink and waving at a server to bring a second round for everyone, despite the fact that neither of his companions were close to being finished with their first.
Tanya still had three quarters of her second beer left by the time Romel finished his third, plunked it down on the table, and announced his intention to answer the call of nature before leaving. It cleared up any question of whether she needed to worry that the Army's new management would ever consider using her for propaganda again - gentlemen didn't use the word "piss" around those they considered ladies.
As soon as he left, Lehrgen, working on the second half of his third drink, cleared his throat.
"About the Type 95. Anyone who doesn't know it exists doesn't need to. I hope you can excuse my interruption earlier."
"Understood, sir. And it was probably best we didn't get on the subject, someone would've likely had to shoot Klusmann to shut him up if he found out about it."
"In his case, I think I would have offered to help bury the body."
"Not used to being told to fill out forms and wait?"
"Not anymore," he admitted. "At least not for things like that. And for the record, I had nothing to do with that poster. I didn't think it sent the right...message."
"Was it that obvious I hated it?"
"Was giving up your uniform for a day really that bad?"
"It was three days, and you get more oxygen 10,000 feet in the air than in a corset. I'd like whoever nominated me to go to that shoot to wear one and see how they like it."
Judging by Lehrgen's reaction - eyes closed, nose scrunched, mouth drawn up into a grimace - Tanya had pushed his imagination into nightmare territory. The officer who selected her for the propaganda shoot must not have been easy on the eyes.
"Is the Christmas beer any good?"
She couldn't blame him for changing the subject so abruptly. She felt a bit guilty if she'd made gross visions float through his head. She wouldn't want anyone doing that to her.
Overall, beer was a far superior topic. Her indiscriminate pointing had landed her on the season's specialty drink. The taste wasn't bad, but it had too many flavors to be called a proper beer. She'd add it to her list of holiday traditions to forego in future years, which already included things like attending church, baking cookies, and placing lit candles on dehydrated trees. Whoever came up with that idea had probably been looking for a way to off their family without getting caught.
The advent calendar in her apartment was her only concession to the Christmas spirit, but she'd need to buy a second one before the month was out. Limiting herself to a single chocolate a day had proved impossible. She wouldn't mind getting presents, but only if she wasn't expected to give them back.
That reminds me...she sighed, remembering that she did have one present to give. Visha's doctor was as punctilious as an auditor. He wouldn't forget to check if Tanya had done as he suggested and purchased a gift for his patient. If she failed, they'd be back to square one, after he'd finally begun responding positively when she asked questions.
"What?" Lehrgen asked.
"I have to think up a Christmas gift for Visha. I don't know of anything worthwhile to get her."
"You should ask Lieutenant Sauer. He's got a talent for it."
She couldn't see Lieutenant Sauer, but she could tell where he was - standing in the middle of the circle of women by the bar being fawned over. She calculated that summoning him over was going to result in at least half the group drifting towards her table. Not wanting to waste the night being quizzed by Sauer's suitors, when Lehrgen turned to shout for him, she put her hand out to get his attention.
Her plan ended up being a little too successful, it would turn out. Instead of tapping his arm, she knocked her beer over and sloshed it onto his sleeve. It hadn't distracted him the way she'd intended, but it would do.
"Sorry," she apologized, handing him a few napkins. "And don't worry about calling him over. I'd rather not be joined by anyone else."
"Well, I do need to interrupt him before he forgets that he's still working, but we can finish my beer first," he said, picking up her glass and pouring half of what remained of his into it. "And you know Ms. Serebryakov better than I, but if you can't think of anything, you could always get her a scarf or something."
That's perfect, Tanya thought, silently thanking her boss for his wisdom. It's practical for the winter and most of her old clothes are probably moth-eaten by now. Lehrgen's surprisingly good at picking out gifts.
She froze upon remembering the gift he'd gotten her for her birthday. In the wake of Visha's return, she'd completely forgotten about his. Maybe he only got me something because it was an important birthday, she comforted herself. If he doesn't get me anything next year, I'm off the hook.
This was exactly why she didn't like exchanging presents. Before she forgot yet another item and added to the pile of failures she was accruing, she owed a word of gratitude to her boss for providing the final ingredient for salvaging her experiment.
"Thanks for earlier," she said, taking a sip from her drink, lips puckering briefly at the bitter taste, "for your idea on the pressure differential."
"I'm surprised you didn't come up with it first."
"Too used to applying magical force directly," she replied, shaking her head at her own error.
"Do you still use it? Now that you don't have an orb."
"For simple things. A bit of athletic enhancement if I want to challenge myself. I don't tend to let my coffee grow cold, but I can reheat the bath as hot and long as I like. My battalion became unaccountably popular during winter on the Eastern Front," she replied, smiling at the memory of all the "donations" her men had received from grateful comrades.
Lehrgen blinked a few times and then frowned. It was no wonder he was suddenly jealous. Soaking in a hot bath was one of life's greatest luxuries. Unfortunately, that was about the extent of it. No matter how much mana she had, it was the complexity of spells that limited their use without an orb. It was safe to say that unless someone could do multivariable calculus in their head, a skilled illusionist could impress a crowd more easily.
"So, helpful around the house, but not enough to cause trouble."
Leave it to Lehrgen to be concerned about people who weren't his responsibility. Now that he'd seen what damage magic could do without being run through a military-grade orb, his mind naturally had gone a step further and worried over how much harm an orb-less mage could inflict.
"Not unless someone's looking for a fight," she reassured. The streets of Berun could be dangerous for a diminutive lady walking alone at night. Anyone who thought she was an easy target would soon find themselves flat on their back. If they were lucky. Still, she'd feel several times safer if she had even the weakest orb in her pocket. The sooner she saved up enough to buy one, the better.
"About that raise," she began, pleased at having found a way to bring up his promise naturally, "I was thinking I'd like to buy myself one of the orbs on the market when I'm old enough."
"I can authorize ten percent, not increase your salary ten times," he joked.
Ten percent? In this economy, that was better than she'd hoped for. Her salary was already adjusted for inflation periodically. If they could just do this every year, she'd be well on her way to a life of ease. She'd better start thinking what she wanted to invest in.
"Time for me to ruin Sauer's evening," he continued, draining the last of his beer. "Is it bad that I enjoy it?"
Lehrgen had brought up the difficult part - that women preferred his adjutant to him - so she didn't have to act as though she hadn't noticed. She was free to give her candid thoughts on the matter.
"No sir," she replied, with a wicked grin. "I'd say he deserves it."
Was he fishing for a compliment? Tanya wondered for a second, when he froze in place and stared at her.
"You aren't...ahh...interested yourself, are you?"
"No," she said hurriedly, not wanting Lehrgen to mistake her annoyance for jealousy the way everyone else did. "No. Not at all. Let them have him."
"Good," he replied with evident relief. "That could have complicated things for me."
In that case, they were on the same page. No manager wanted key subordinates getting involved with each other. Workplace relationships brought nothing but trouble.
B/N: This and the following chapter was originally one chapter, but since it was starting to become monstrously long, surpassing 19k words, it was cut in twain. Rejoice! You can think of this as an early Christmas present.
A/N: Above note from Acerman who listened to me complain for 3 weeks about how I hate this chapter and how upsetting it is that I couldn't make a Magic Mike pun with the adjutant's name :) Too much setting up later events, not enough Tanya trying to plot against other people completely unnecessarily, which made it a struggle to put from her perspective. Also, 99% of info about orbs/magic was made up, and I think we have Jacobk to credit with the idea about different grades of orbs. At this point, it feels like canon.
Anyhow, wish these two luck next chapter. They really need it. Fs for effort all around.