.

December 26, 1929

Upper East Side, Manhattin, New Yourke City, Unified States of America

It wasn't easy being an immigrant from the Empire these days. Unless, of course, you had money. Then it wasn't so hard. There was a new language to speak, a new political system to navigate, new friends to make, new customs to learn. You could pay people to take care of most of those details for you.

At home, where Germanian was still spoken and the cook still made the Empire's specialties, the distance was easy to forget. Especially so in a city with thousands upon thousands of first-generation immigrants of Imperial stock. There were bars and banks and bakers where every client and every employee all hailed from the same fatherland, conversed in the same tongue, and reminisced over the same fond memories of their glory days.

Otto von Lehrgen hadn't uprooted his family and moved them to the States so that they could pretend they still lived in the Empire. He was a forward-looking man. Certain important traditions were preserved for his children's sake - gifts had been opened on the 24th instead of the 25th, as his host country insisted on doing - and even those might fall by the wayside in another year or two.

His oldest would be the only one who had any real memories of the place she'd grown up, and in a few months he'd welcome his first child who was American by virtue of birth. It would be a kindness, ultimately, not to hold them back by preventing them from integrating fully into their new home. He might shed a tear or two in old age, that at this rate, his children might be the final generation of von Lehrgens who would pronounce their last name without a foreign accent, but what did that matter compared to the promising future they had in the land of opportunity?

If Otto was going to demand his family change their ways, he couldn't refuse to do so himself. In the Empire, December 26th was a holiday. In the Unified States, it wasn't. Half of the bankers he kept in touch with didn't celebrate Christmas anyway, so over his wife's protests, he locked himself in his study after breakfast and sat down to work like it was any other Thursday.

Just past lunch, he picked up the phone and heard a familiar voice on the other end. He'd met Bruno von Hammerstein at university. His irrepressible vivacity took some getting used to, but nothing made friends faster than discovering a common cause. As it would turn out, both had only been pursuing higher education as an excuse to avoid settling down and turning into their fathers. Otto had only been able to stave off that fate for so long, but his friend never had lost his energy for mischief and mayhem.

He wrote to Bruno like clockwork every few weeks, but trying to keep track of where he was in the world and what time it would be appropriate to call was too much trouble, never mind that Bruno was often in a location with no phone service whatsoever, so it had been months since they'd last heard each other's voices. His friend never called unless he had something newsworthy to report, or when he was looking to borrow money for his latest adventure. So far, he'd returned it all with profits included. Otto was fairly certain his money had funded a few local conflicts at this point, so he did his best not to listen too hard to any descriptions of how it was being misused.

As usual, Bruno about talked his ear off for the better part of an hour, though Otto managed to get a few words in edgewise. At length he was updated on the rivalries of every last tribe from the Levant down through the Arabian Peninsula, an implausible number of which involved the narrator as a main character, then informed that riding a camel wasn't as glamorous as it sounded, and finally, treated to a foreign version of yodeling that Bruno swore was an exact rendition of the call to prayer he heard every morning.

It was only when he brought up a topic as drab as the daily news headlines that Otto knew his friend was stalling. Bruno never wanted to talk about the news more than he wanted to talk about himself. If he'd run out of stories and was still going, it could only be because there was an exciting piece of gossip he was holding back. He was too smart to tell other people's secrets himself, so he'd wait for Otto to mention it and confirm he was aware before launching in. It was a dance they'd repeated time and again over the years.

"Out with it," Otto eventually demanded, tapping his pen impatiently against his chin, for the first time in his memory not sure what the scandal-of-the-moment was.

"Have you talked to your brother today?"

Not a scandal, then. Definitely not. He'd think it another promotion, but even picture-perfect officers the likes of which all good Preussian grandfathers dreamed of having in the family didn't jump ranks through the generalships that fast.

"Is he in the hospital?" Otto finally guessed, deciding that perhaps his brother had slipped on some ice the night before and Bruno had ended up responsible for getting him to the doctor, so was calling to report it. He couldn't think of a worse person to be stuck with. Bruno's bedside manner would be nothing but recounting stories of his own injuries, which were always much worse and earned in much manlier ways. One of these days, Otto was going to ask him to lift up his shirt to see if all those scars were really there.

"No, but he threatened to send me to one last night."

"That...can't be right," Otto sputtered. "Why?"

His brother had joined the Army because he'd never gotten over his love of setting up toy soldiers on the oversized map he'd gotten for his eighth birthday, theorizing about how certain famous battles might have been decided differently. Not because he'd wanted an excuse to hit people. Even in his younger years, Erich had never gone through that stage where getting drunk and starting a fight or two was to be expected. Which frankly, Otto thought was unhealthy, but that was an argument for another time.

"It was over the girl he brought to the Christmas party."

Well then. Maybe his children wouldn't be the last Germanian-speaking von Lehrgens after all. It was about time. Though Otto was a bit insulted he hadn't heard that news first.

"He didn't say he was taking anyone when we spoke on Tuesday. Who was it?"

"A one Ms. Tanya Degurechaff. She's one-of-a-kind, I'll give him that. Better as a business partner than a romantic one far as I could tell, but to each their own."

"That's impossible."

"I swear it on my mother's grave."

"Bruno, I know my brother, and I'm telling you, it's impossible. If he brought her, it was for some other reason, and someone probably made him do it."

Another item on Bruno's endless list of things he should be afraid of but wasn't were experimental drugs. Evidently, he'd gotten his hands on something powerful during his travels abroad. No point in getting worked up over whatever hallucination he was in the grips of. Tanya might no longer be a forbidden name in the von Lehrgen household, but Erich's opinion of her couldn't have changed that much.

"That's what I thought at first. Apparently orders from above are to make some introductions for her. All I did was try to dance with the girl and he was over a second later pulling us apart."

"Are you sure it wasn't for another reason?"

Bruno recounted the threat he'd been given - that he should only dance with her if he was feeling brave enough for a fight over it, including a remarkably good imitation of his brother's clipped, snappy tone, the same that all the officers had drilled into them, still overlaid with the hint of higher vowels carried over from the dialect they'd heard in their childhood.

"It makes some sense why he'd want to get her acquainted with everyone," Bruno conceded, as he finished his story. "Former lieutenant colonel or no, she'll never be fit to be an officer's wife if she doesn't know the first thing about polite society."

"...that's true…" Otto commented, only half-listening, mind still occupied by patent disbelief. This wasn't like Erich at all. He wasn't impulsive, wasn't whimsical, was cautious and prudent to a fault. There was little you could take on faith from Bruno, and something this outlandish certainly didn't qualify.

"Don't tell him I told you," Bruno made him promise, which Otto did, fully intending to break it as soon as they hung up.

It took a minute for his call to reach overseas, going through however many operators it needed to get out of New Yourke, out of the States, into the Empire, to Berun, and then to Number 86 Kommandantenstraße.

He went through all the usual questions - how are things, anything new, how was Christmas, anything interesting at the party? - and there wasn't a single mention of taking a fancy to a girl, bringing her anywhere, Tanya's name wasn't brought up at all, which was strange in itself. That, more than anything, convinced Otto that something out of the ordinary had happened with her. Typically, she earned at least a mention, if not the better part of the conversation if you knew how to push Erich's buttons right.

Of course his brother would make this difficult because he was embarrassed about such a drastic change of heart. Although, Otto himself was part of the problem, and he knew it. He may have gone a touch too far with some of his jokes. Perhaps it was the time his wife was pregnant with their second child and he'd maintained for months that if it was another girl, they'd name her Tanya.

How do I approach this? he grumbled to himself, telling some pointless story about his children to keep Erich on the phone as he puzzled over the best way to inquire into his personal life, which he tended to be private about regardless of any other factors. Direct. Direct is best, he decided. Dancing around an awkward subject only prolonged the agony.

"Bruno told me about what happened with Tanya," he said, all in one breath.

There was a pause, Erich's commentary cutting off mid-sentence, and then a long, controlled inhale came from the other end of the line, and he could imagine exactly the face his brother was making, eyes closed, jaw set, heel of his palm pressed into his forehead.

"If you're calling just to amuse yourself because I was stupid enough to let her get her way with me-"

"No," Otto interrupted, feeling that he was about to be hung up on and needing a second to process that last statement. What had that girl done to his poor, dear brother that he had to describe it as get her way with? He hadn't realized it was that serious already. Congratulations, I guess? If he said that out loud, the next thing he'd hear was the click of the receiver.

"I just...you know how Bruno exaggerates, I didn't know if he was telling the truth," he continued after a moment.

"He was, for once, and in that case, you're forgiven," Erich sighed. "But only if you don't say anything more about it."

If you're that touchy about it, fine, Otto thought, with an indulgent smile, twirling his pen through his fingers with glee. He'd have to be more careful on how he approached this subject matter in future conversations. He didn't mean to make Erich miserable, but sometimes he made himself too easy to tease. An older brother couldn't help it. And someone had to bring him down a notch every once in a while.

January 7, 1930

General Staff Office, Imperial Capital Berun

Sometimes, the simplest ideas are the hardest ones to come up with.

That was all Brigadier General Erich von Lehrgen could think while he stared, dumbfounded, at Tanya Degurechaff. For once, it wasn't because what she'd said was hard to follow, her agile mind ten paces ahead of his as he struggled to keep up. No. He wasn't the least bit confused by her words. What had shocked him near speechless was that he hadn't ever thought of this before. Or if not him, then someone. Anyone.

It's so obvious a child could see it, but it took a veritable genius to point it out, he grumbled crossly, wondering how every military worldwide had collectively failed so miserably to reach this self-evident conclusion. Just a few years ago, they'd been able to boast several million men on the rolls of the Imperial Army alone, among them some of the brightest strategists, inventors, and problem-solvers to be found in the country, if not in the world, and yet not a single one of them had ever suggested such a thing as Tanya just had.

Lehrgen cleared his throat, smoothed out the papers in front of him, put an elbow on his desk, then dropped his forehead down onto an open palm. It wasn't a very professional response. He should have waited for Tanya to leave before making a display like this, and maintained a collected and composed exterior in front of his subordinate.

But he wasn't an automaton, and he'd recently confirmed, definitively, that she wasn't either. So what was the point in pretending, in putting on an act for no one's benefit? She'd known him long enough that he should be able to relax a bit in front of her.

"Sir?" she questioned, a touch of worry evident in her tone. "...is there...did I say something wrong?"

"No, Degurechaff, no. You did not," he said, head still collapsed down into his hand. "I'm just trying to remember the last time someone made me feel like such an idiot."

"Sorry," she gushed out, and she really did sound it. "Please allow me to apologize, that's not what I - I didn't mean to imply-"

"It's fine," he interrupted. "You did nothing wrong. Nothing at all. This is exactly why I like having you around. I just can't believe no one else ever said something before."

"Well, I have some advantages other people don't," she deflected. "Even if something's obvious with the benefit of hindsight, that doesn't make everyone else an idiot for missing it."

Lehrgen wasn't sure if it was more startling that Tanya cared enough to try to give him a few words of emotional comfort, or that it actually meant something to him. Regardless, he felt slightly better upon hearing her say that she didn't look on him with utter disdain for the oversight.

It would have been nice to have been born an actual genius, he thought, and not simply a bit smarter than average, enough that everyone expects great things out of you but not near enough to guarantee total superiority like someone I know. He raised his gaze to look at the person in front of him, who was biting a nail as though she was nervous.

He certainly wasn't going to share that thought with her. After the explosive backlash he'd received when he'd caught her at the piano and mentioned how lucky she was to have been born with so much raw ability, he had no plans to ever bring that topic up again. Watching her inexplicably volatile reaction and accompanying mood shift had resurfaced the question of how stable she truly was - whether she'd grown and changed for the better, or if her recent lack of maniacal glee over war, killing, and other atrocities had more to do with her environment and the absence of provocation for her worst habits.

And anyway, maybe being a genius wasn't all it was cracked up to be. Life seemed like it would be so easy, if only he could be as smart as Tanya. But the haunting finality with which she'd called her greatest gift a curse had stuck with him. It made him think that no matter what she did, whether she wanted to be normal or not, by accident of birth she couldn't help but be a perplexing, often unsettling existence. That she'd been made so differently than the rest of them, instead of easier, it made life difficult for her, perhaps oppressively so. That living a simple, regular life would always escape her.

And to him, that sounded like a far worse lot in life than struggling to rise above mediocrity. He didn't envy her for it, even felt a touch of compassion for the unseen and lonely battle she waged as she tried to adapt herself to a world not made for people like her.

"I'll get this down to procurement," he promised, forcing himself to stop his increasingly morose train of thought. "We'll get them working on the best color match for desert sand. I've never been down to the Southern Continent myself, so when they send up all the samples, I'll let you vote which is best on my behalf."

It really was the simplest thing. The army had finally gotten around to redesigning its uniforms. The alterations were slight, but no one wanted to wear the uniform of a country that had lost the largest war humankind had ever known. Tanya, of course, was no longer issued one, so when she'd walked into his office at 2 PM sharp, just as scheduled, the first thing she'd done upon commencing their meeting had been to comment on the changes.

"I liked the old color better," Lehrgen had mentioned, somewhere along the way. There wasn't much difference, truth be told. The new uniforms had a more faded, gray-washed version of the rich green he was accustomed to, more modern but less visually pleasing.

"So did I," she'd agreed, "but I'd have taken something more neutral out in the desert. Made us easy targets, and unfortunately the Republicans weren't dumb enough to believe a forest of underbrush had sprouted up overnight. I wasn't stationed down there permanently, but you'd think the troops that were would've been given uniforms that blended in a little better."

Yes, that would've been smart, wouldn't it? Green's all well and good when you're surrounded by forests, but what idiots don't realize it isn't suitable for other places? Lehrgen had bemoaned to himself. Well, no use crying over it now. It's in the past. Only thing to do is fix the problem as soon as possible.

"While you're at it," Tanya said, humoring him with a wry smile before hammering the point home even further, "as a mage, I feel compelled to suggest that it would be nice to be a little more mistakable for a piece of sky or a passing cloud, instead of a mysteriously levitating cucumber. Once the ban is lifted, maybe the flight jumpsuits could also be redyed...?"

"Yes, yes, those too. And I won't forget white for snow, if we ever go deep into the eastern front again," he told her, exasperation at himself leaking into his voice for having to be reminded that the desert wasn't the only place where green uniforms weren't the most appropriate color.

"Sorry," she winced, "I didn't mean to sound condescending."

"I know," he placated. "I know."

"Good," she breathed, with a self-effacing laugh at her own anxiety.

"What are you so worried about?" he asked, curious why she thought, of all things, this was the interaction that would wreak havoc on his opinion of her.

"I wouldn't want to have ruined my prospect at another chance to establish important relationships for my future," she said, glancing slyly up from under her eyelashes. "My background doesn't make it easy to be accepted into that world."

Lehrgen suppressed the desire to snort. Like I'm going to pay for her to spend a week's worth of her salary on dinner again. One thing that most certainly hadn't changed about Tanya over the past few years was that she was unhesitant in using, or, depending on where you drew the line, abusing, anyone or anything in her life who could present an advantage to her.

"You haven't ruined anything," he told her truthfully. The chance of him letting her tag along with him again was near zero, but she hadn't made it any worse by making him ashamed of himself.

While some part of her desire for another night out was likely just the thrill of getting free food and wine at his expense, after seeing the way she'd behaved over Christmas dinner, combined with her recent confirmation she was looking out for her future, his guess that this was all a ploy to bolster her career was almost certainly correct.

She'd made sure to leave a favorable impression on everyone she met, and the richer or more well-connected, the more effort she'd expended. She only had a year and a half until she was eligible to re-enlist and eventually wear one of the new, pale blue flight suits she'd just invented. As much as the Army liked to claim it was a meritocracy, that was only true to an extent.

Among the lower ranks, it was mostly a valid claim. But Tanya would be reinstated as a lieutenant colonel, which wasn't exactly a low rank. As you moved up the chain of command, promotions inevitably grew scarcer, and thus more competitive. Without constant success in battle propelling her forward, Tanya's ability to distinguish herself in relation to her peers would be diminished, and she was at a natural disadvantage when it came to familial or other personal connections, which undoubtedly counted for something as the rank got higher.

Lehrgen was not unaware of the effect his background had on his own career. No one could say he didn't deserve his promotions, but he'd been handed them at the expense of colleagues who were just as deserving, who in most cases had waited longer for it.

Tanya was smart. Not just on an academic level, she was canny about how the system she had to play within worked. She'd always been able to use obscure regulations to her advantage. It would insult her intelligence to suggest that she wasn't aware that she needed to start playing politics if she wanted to continue her upward journey through the Imperial hierarchy.

Years past, she wouldn't have needed to ingratiate herself with anyone aside from her superior officers, the Army being the only profession that mattered. Those years were long gone, though. The industrialists who invented and manufactured, the rail and shipping magnates who controlled the flow of goods, the bankers who financed it all, knowing how to appeal to them was just as important as cultivating the good opinions of her direct superiors, perhaps doubly or even triply so because she was female.

Typically, being promoted too much further would all but eliminate her chances of leading a battalion herself; in Tanya's case, however, that was extraordinarily unlikely. She was far too useful in battle, a fact which she was undoubtedly aware of. Until someone else managed to use the Type 95 successfully, she was guaranteed the top spot as the Empire's most valuable mage, her competitors trailing her at a good distance. As she rose through the ranks, it would just give her the ability to pick her own battles, and turn them as bloody as she wanted to. She might not seem bloodthirsty now, but who was to say that wouldn't change as soon as she caught the scent of fear? He was determined not to let the efforts he'd put in over the past month at being more companionable go to waste.

In a way, allowing her to continue to deepen her social network wouldn't be a bad thing. She was well-versed in subjects ranging from economics to legal affairs to transportation. If he kept bringing her around, somebody was bound to offer her a job eventually, especially now that Hammerstein had put the word out. But until he was desperate, he wasn't going to let her catch him unawares again and earn a second trip to pollute one of his few refuges from military life. Especially not when he knew he'd never hear the end of it from his brother.

Otto had, thankfully, never had occasion to meet Tanya. He wouldn't understand. Couldn't understand, in fact. Much of the Army thought her half-legend, even, the feats and vices of several mages conflated into one mythological chimera. Nobody could be expected to comprehend a tenth of how sinister it felt to watch a dissonantly calm child prepare to murder someone in cold blood without being there in person.

From Otto's perspective, it was clear why he found it humorous that an esteemed officer would take a primary schooler's threats seriously. It didn't make the frequent jibes any easier to swallow. His unwise decision to confess his fears about Tanya to his family after she'd won the Silver Wings had handed his brother endless ammunition with which to harp on him about, the same way all siblings liked to playfully pick on each other's flaws.

Erich knew he brought it on himself, in a way. He could simply refuse to speak about her. But back then, he'd needed some safe outlet to complain to. His superior officers would only tolerate so much. Despite the occasional irreverent comment, Otto typically did his best to ignore her age and commiserate with him over the difficulties Tanya presented. Still, he wouldn't soon forget that time his brother had patted him on the head and asked if he wanted Mommy to save him from the scary she-monster that lived under his bed.

The mockery had let up after the Republic publicly accused Tanya of war crimes. That had proven there was more than a grain of truth to the stories he'd told. Now, when he brought her up, more often than not it was for no reason other than that she was a fascinating person to be around. Not an easy one, and not always in a good way, but fascinating all the same. Evidently, his brother hadn't given up, but had been waiting for Erich to present him with new fodder to use. Other considerations on volunteering his time towards Tanya's career aside, he didn't want Otto to think he'd been right all along. Treating a social engagement with her like it was a blessing instead of a burden was tantamount to admitting he'd gotten worked up all those years over nothing.

Well, there was nothing to be done about the fact that Bruno had called his brother straightaway. Those two never missed an opportunity to gossip with each other.

With a heavy sigh, Lehrgen picked up the phone to get someone on the line who knew a thing or two about designing uniforms. They might not have colonies on the Southern Continent anymore, but it never hurt to be prepared. If Magna Rumeli crumbled the wrong way, a desert-appropriate outfit might be needed sooner rather than later.

January 31, 1930

General Staff Office, Imperial Capital Berun

Three weeks was all it took for the first samples to be delivered to the office. A purchase order from the Army could put any textile business into the land of bountiful profits for the year, so every company contacted had prioritized the request and shown off no less than their best handiwork.

Lehrgen had received the call a few minutes ago, and now stood in one of the building's many unused rooms, which had been converted into a temporary clothing boutique catering to an oddly specific sort of client. He had no real opinion on the various shades of tans and grays, aside from being glad he was unlikely to ever wear one of them.

He wasn't a vain man, but he'd learned during his summers in the Commonwealth that the palette didn't do him any favors. Every garden party had required a light-colored suit, so he hadn't lacked for variety, and still, he'd never found a shade that didn't make his skin look unhealthily sallow. Combined with the faded brown of his hair, at the time cropped more closely after having just come out of field service, it had made him altogether forgettable, a drab and dreary background character.

His girlfriend at the time had done an admirable job of pretending he cut a more striking figure. The same could not be said of her elder sister or grandmother, who had both been possessed of the sharp tongues the Albionian aristocracy was known for. Apparently, neither of them had anything better to do than come up with snide remarks to drop into otherwise pleasant conversations. Now that was a pair he wouldn't mind introducing Tanya to. Her complete indifference to the various titles and rituals of the nobility would be a deadly weapon against people who didn't care about anything but.

Speaking of Tanya, she would have a better eye for the exact color of the garments he was currently assessing. Lehrgen couldn't tell the difference between half of them, and for those that he could, he had no idea which would be preferable in a desert or up in the air. With that thought, he turned around and went to fetch her away from whatever she was working on.

Her door was open, and he caught the tail end of a conversation. An unhappy sigh, then a few dejected remarks to whoever she was speaking with, "yes, yes, I understand, no, it's alright."

Whether it was really alright or not was debatable. After she hung up the phone, Lehrgen picked up the unmistakable sound of a boot colliding with wood. Kicking your desk out of frustration or anger didn't generally portend that a satisfactory arrangement had been reached.

"Degurechaff," he called, knocking on the door frame a second before he entered in case she needed time to compose herself, "is there a problem?"

"Weiss's wife had her damn baby," she muttered, arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"I...see," he remarked, unsure of the response she was looking for out of him. It was hard to be sympathetic when he did not in fact see. At all. There was little reason for her to be upset over the news.

"He was supposed to help me move this weekend. Somehow, he forgot the date conflicted with the birth of his first child," she clarified, tone heavy with sarcasm.

"How terribly selfish of him to inconvenience you like that," Lehrgen interjected, equally acerbically.

"I could use a second person for some of the furniture," she pouted bitterly, resting her chin on one of her hands. "And I can't exactly ask Visha."

"There's others who could help besides them," he reasoned. People who weren't named Erich von Lehrgen, which is what she seemed to be hinting at. He'd have to think up an excuse in case she asked him straight out.

"I'm not letting some random vagrant I find on the street touch my things," she grumbled darkly. "And all the respectable companies will take at least a week to arrange."

"Are you required to be out of your current apartment by tomorrow?" he asked curiously. It wasn't like her to schedule something with no tolerance for error.

"No, but if I have to live next to my neighbors another day I might shoot one of them," she said with a laugh. "I'm barely holding on to my sanity as it is."

It was hard to tell if that was a joke or not. He wanted it to be a joke, but with Tanya, it was impossible to tell. Death was not an empty threat coming from her. And assuming that it was mostly said in jest, it still meant she was fantasizing about committing violent acts as a means of problem-solving. There was no trait he'd like to discourage more than her pitiless attitude towards the life and limb of anyone who stood in her way. In fact, he had a vested personal interest in that matter.

I have to offer, he told himself glumly. She lives in an apartment, so she can't have much furniture anyway, he reminded himself. It'll just be one or two things.

"Well, before you do that, you could always ask me to help," he mumbled out unhappily. "So long as you don't need someone with magically-enhanced strength."

"Ah, no, of course. I just didn't want to impose too much," she replied, scratching at the back of her head but smiling happily. "I thought it might be too soon. Is Sunday alright?"

"I can be over by ten," he confirmed, before he realized his error. "Unless you'll be in church then, that is. I wouldn't want to interfere with something so important to you."

It was impossible to miss the look that flashed across her eyes, and equally impossible to put a name to the expression. A dark, almost manic gleam that nearly made him take a step back out of intimidation at the intensity.

"I've been told you're quite pious, is that incorrect?" he asked, after a second spent convincing himself he was seeing things.

"...it's complicated."

Lehrgen didn't see what could possibly be complicated about the faith of someone who had gone to chapel several times a week during War College and who was known for praying audibly and at length on the battlefield, but it was far from the first unnecessarily complicated personality trait of Tanya's.

"So, if ten is alright-"

"Yes."

"-then the real reason I came up here is that we got the samples for alternative uniforms in this morning. You free to take a look?"

For someone who wore almost nothing besides white shirts and black pants, Tanya had a critical eye for color and texture when she needed to. Her first order of business was to eliminate three-quarters of the flight jumpsuits under consideration for any future aerial mages.

She was methodical in her approach, not simply looking at each individual item, but re-organizing them and grouping them into rough categories of white, gray, and blue. Lehrgen nearly left to get back to his desk in the interim, since the only talking she was doing was to herself, but watching the process was like getting a live display of how her mind approached unfamiliar practical questions.

After she was finished with her color-coding, she stood back and stared at the gray section for a few minutes before reaching for one that was roughly the hue of a white shirt that had been mixed in with other colors in the laundry so many times that it was now an indistinct, dingy gray that would never look clean no matter how thoroughly it was washed. With no comment, she bent down to untie and remove her boots, then slipped it on over her clothes.

A few calisthenic exercises later and she removed it, laying it on a table to her side. She walked back over to the rack and ran her fingers down the sleeve of each suit, then turned around to address him.

"Would you get me a cup of water?"

A brigadier general had better things to do than run errands at the beck and call of a girl who was perfectly capable of going down the hall herself if she was feeling thirsty. Really. Much better. Erich von Lehrgen had more important things to accomplish than what he was currently doing, which was exactly as she'd asked. Tanya needed so little assistance from anyone else that she reduced everyone around her, no matter their rank, to varying degrees of superfluousness such that the most helpful thing he could do was not interrupt her by making it a point of pride to not take orders from her.

By the time he was back in the room, she'd pulled a handful of different jumpsuits off the rack they were hanging on. She took the water he offered her, and instead of drinking it, she shook it over the unsuspecting clothing.

"I never could figure out why they didn't make our jumpsuits water-repellent," she commented, while they both watched drops bead on the garments. "The technology for it has existed for years."

Without waiting for him to respond, she picked up the one that had absorbed the least water, then the very first one she'd pulled off.

"This material," she told him, holding up the jumpsuit in her left hand and then giving it to him, "but this color," she continued, shaking the one in her right hand in that offensive shade of light gray. "In northern Europa the sky is gray more often than not, it's a better choice than blue."

With that, she turned to the uniforms intended for the desert. She removed about a third of them for being too richly colored, either overly yellow or overly brown, but then stepped back with a shrug.

"Honestly, someone who was stationed with General von Romel will know better than I."

"And if you had to choose?"

She frowned and turned back, eyes scanning the rack. "This one," she indicated, pulling on one of the sleeves.

"Very good," Lehrgen nodded. "I'll clear the new jumpsuits with the right people. At this point, I think everyone will take your word for it when it comes to what's best where mages are concerned."

"...we wouldn't happen to be planning on needing them anytime soon?" she asked.

Lehrgen had heard that Zettour had devised some sort of plan for allowing the Imperial Army to once again add aerial mages to its officially-sanctioned soldiers, but the last thing he needed was Tanya getting her hopes up about that. She was already looking antsy, her left hand coming up and stretching over her chest, like her heart had begun beating with excitement at the thought.

"Never hurts to be prepared," he said, with a shake of his head. "I'll see you Sunday."

—

Tanya rubbed her hand over her heart a few more times for good measure while she waited for the anxious pounding to slow. The speed with which her suggestion had been turned into reality was...gratifying, to be sure. Or would have been, if aerial mages currently existed in the Imperial Army. Seeing as they didn't, the haste was downright worrisome. From the beginning, her passing remark on the subject of camouflage had caused her nothing but trouble.

Apparently, my New Year's resolution needs to be to relearn how to think before I speak, she thought, making her way back to her own office.

A successful project didn't usually kick off with making your boss feel like an idiot. After all her time in the workforce, she was confident in that much. Hearing Lehrgen say how humiliated she'd made him feel back when it first came up had about made the pit of her stomach drop out. Showing up your superior only induced unhelpful feelings of jealousy.

To top it off, trying to use humor to lighten the mood afterwards by making that joke about the color of their flight suits had been absolutely the wrong approach, like she was poking fun at everyone who'd never wondered why they didn't camouflage their mages better, her own boss included. From the get-go, she should have been more delicate in how she approached the subject.

Acting like you were better than your boss aside, one thing Tanya had learned over the years was that people were willing to gloss over a surprising number of mistakes or words said in the heat of the moment without making much of an issue over it. But, short of being given a heartfelt apology, the one thing they rarely forgave was being made to feel badly about themselves. Nothing put people on the defensive faster. Her HR training had emphasized that few things were more important than giving a dispassionate account of facts and figures and not letting any sort of personal judgment leak into the conversation. Not that that had helped in the end.

Thank...someone...that Lehrgen isn't that petty, Tanya sighed. An astonishing number of people were willing to throw out a good idea because they were embarrassed it wasn't theirs. It would be tragic if she were never invited back to his social club. Being Christmas, many members had been home with family instead, so there were likely even better acquaintances to make next time. Obviously, as his potential future subordinate officer, the better she looked, the better he looked. He was more than smart enough to see the benefit for his legacy. Mentors loved nothing more than seeing their charges succeed, then getting to sit back and reap the praise.

Of course, asking for too many favors in a row was never a good look. She'd been planning on waiting a few months before asking for anything major. Like help moving. That plan had worked out great. Great at insulting him yet again, that was, by ranking him below someone who couldn't currently walk unaided in terms of his expected usefulness. His expression when he'd offered to help had been unmistakably sour, and including that part about magically-enhanced strength just reeked of wounded male pride.

Thirty hours later, Tanya was slightly regretting her decision to rely on free labor instead of paying for a moving crew. Only slightly. Intense physical exercise was important for a healthy lifestyle, after all. Her sore back was just a sign she wasn't getting too indulgent during the era of the wondrous thing humans called peacetime.

She looked around with satisfaction at the apartment now devoid of everything besides her largest pieces of furniture, her toothbrush, and a single outfit. The rest she'd already moved two floors down. There would have been no problem asking for Weiss's help with boxes. She hadn't mentioned that part of it to Lehrgen. Somehow, she didn't think he'd appreciate what had sounded like an hour's work turning into half a day spent running up and down the hall.

Going to bed that night, she didn't even pound at the wall when the...vigorous sounds of life began emanating from the room next to her. It would almost have been disappointing if this was her only evening of peace.

February 2, 1930

Moabitte, Imperial Capital Berun

Precisely at ten in the morning, Erich von Lehrgen pressed the buzzer for Apartment 601. It was a newer building, though not what he'd call a nice one. Utilitarian, maybe, was the kindest way to describe it, which fit very well with the personality of its one occupant known to him.

On a Sunday morning, Tanya's street wasn't so bad. Any rougher elements were either asleep or on their best behavior while their children and grandmothers walked to and from a church or family gathering. Some trash littering the streets and the numerous political posters plastered on top of each other along any available surface were the only signs of disharmony.

He didn't have long to stand and contemplate before the door opened, Tanya leaning against it. The interior of her building was even less attractive than the exterior. Like the architect had never had experience designing something other than a fortress. All metal and concrete, it looked more like it was built to withstand a siege than keep out a few rowdy political protestors and drug addicts. It was like she'd decided to permanently live in a trench dug-out. He wasn't sure why he'd expected differently out of her.

The good news was, there was an elevator, so they wouldn't need to make the trek up five flights of stairs. The bad news was, it was far too small to hold a piece of furniture, so they'd be struggling down the steps in a few minutes anyway.

To his relief, her apartment was empty of anything with too much of a personal touch. He was interested in learning more about her, but you could very easily learn more than you bargained for about someone by how they kept house.

"Did you buy this from the last tenant?" he asked, knocking lightly on the well-worn wood of her table.

"Everything but my mattress," she confirmed. "I used to care more about buying things new, but, well, the war was good for learning to appreciate anything sturdy and serviceable."

"Did you have many new things at the orphanage?" he asked curiously.

Her adoptive home hadn't been destitute, exactly, but it would be an extravagant nunnery indeed that accustomed its charges to receiving goods that were purchased new. These were people who had supposedly taken vows of poverty, after all.

"No," she replied sharply, and he wondered if referencing her ignominious origins had offended her slightly, "so that's why I appreciated them so much."

"Right, well, shall we start with this, then?"

The table wasn't terribly heavy, just, as Tanya had noted, impossible for a single person to carry. Apartment 402 was somewhat larger. It was still a single room and bathroom, but at least here there was an L-shaped cut-out that provided some level of distinction between sleeping and living quarters.

The next thing he noticed after the increased size of the apartment was the absolutely hideous wallpaper.

"Who picked that travesty?" he blurted out, eyes unable to break away from the hypnotic chaos.

"I know," Tanya sighed, wincing and glancing away.

Wait, he cursed, she might have selected it herself. It was very possible she'd asked the landlord permission to make a few changes before moving in. Likely, even. Perhaps this was why she didn't trust herself to wear anything besides repetitive outfits that were uniforms in everything but name.

"It's very...avant-garde?" he tried, scouring the room for another decorative item he could compliment.

Problem was, everything was currently packed up in the neatly stacked boxes lining the wall. There wasn't much he could say about those. I love the boxes, very tasteful didn't work with crates clearly taken from the local grocer.

"I'll get around to replacing it eventually," she said, with a wave of her hand that allowed him to breathe a sigh of relief. "I just couldn't wait to get out of the old place."

"Your neighbors were that bad?"

"At least wallpaper doesn't make noise."

He begged to differ. The room was a bit dark, and still, it was screaming at his eyes. But, he wasn't the one who had to live with it, so he shrugged and motioned towards the door.

One bedframe, one mattress, two dressers, and miraculously, only three bruised fingers - two of his and one of hers - later, she was situated on the new floor.

"I'd offer to make something for lunch, but everything's packed up," she said, motioning at the boxes. "Plus, I'm not sure if that would count more as a reward or a punishment."

"I'll find something," he reassured her, eager to move along with his weekend. "I'm sure there's plenty in the neighborhood."

"There's a place down the street that's good. Or at least, I think it is. It's very popular. Every time I've gone in they look at me funny so it's a bit weird to go on my own, but with two of us we could ignore it."

How about no, was his first reaction. A situation that intimidated Tanya? What the hell was going on in there? A formal tea party? It made him so curious he actually had to see for himself.

It was still early for lunch, so it wasn't crowded in the café Tanya led him to. The crowd that was there did look at Tanya strangely, it was true. Looked at both of them strangely, actually, though in very, very different ways.

Well, thanks for the compliment, gentlemen, Lehrgen thought, putting his hand on Tanya's shoulder and turning her around to leave. If this was the one piece of her mind that wasn't corrupted, he was going to leave it innocent. And he didn't need to get in an argument with her anyway, complicated or not, she was still devoutly faithful, so she might have raised a fuss upon learning what was going on under her nose.

It hadn't been immediately obvious, so he could see how Tanya had missed it, but Lehrgen didn't quite get the sense that these were businessmen meeting over a meal. Given that there had been no obstacles to strangers wandering in, the police obviously already knew about the establishment and had decided they had more dangerous offenders to arrest than a few men with eyes for their own gender getting together in private. People who wasted their time worrying about the decaying sense of public morality were practically inconsolable that Berun was becoming known worldwide for its lax attitude towards enforcing that particular part of the criminal code.

Tanya drew in a breath as soon as they were out. "Why did-"

"I think they may have had their own social club in there," he told her. "One that we aren't a part of. Maybe a political party."

"Oh," she said, unexpectedly dejected. "Sorry."

"It's fine," he answered with a smile, spotting a small restaurant down the street and heading towards it.

He had planned on making her pay. He'd done her a favor. But, he'd consider the good laugh he was going to have when he got home payment enough.

B/N: :P

A/N: ;) On a practical note, while I usually go off LN canon [so our German male lead has brown hair instead of blue...shocking, I know], the anime flight-suit design makes more sense IMO, so I'm going with the anime uniforms [minus the weird boot thing for mages].

Happy New Year everyone! Do I need any resolutions for my story? Is there something I'm doing really badly I need to fix? There probably is. Don't sexually harass my followers with chapter titles again you say? Look, I just wanted to be your first solicitation of the New Year, okay? After 150k words of backstory to make the decision-making more believable when things come to a head, I finally got back on my original crack plot. This is an exciting time for me, I have a lot of chaotic energy. Thank you all for being here on this unexpectedly long journey.

For trivia purposes, I will tell you that Lehrgen's ex-girlfriend is a real character in another series that takes place in the same era as YS. Honestly they are perfect for each other. PERFECT. He shoulda married her. If there's any British TV drama fans reading, please take a guess. She's also that character that nothing ever goes right for and always gets overruled and overshadowed by the bossy main character.

Berlin/Weimar culture is lightly relevant to this story so just giving my take - the Empire was not as devastated as Germany post-war, so it will probably never reach like, peak Weimar decadence, but it largely follows the same trends. One thing to remember is that the "Golden Years" that the era is remembered for are more like late 20s/early 30s, so 5+ years post-war. We are only at ~1.75 years at the moment, social norms/clothes liberalizing a ton is still getting started. On the subject of gay culture, male homosexuality was illegal; female was not, the police didn't really enforce that law so much and the subculture seriously flourished. Obviously LGBT people still had tons of struggles with acceptance, they had zero legal protections from discrimination and many of the conservative elements of society were unhappy about it, but living "out of the closet" was definitely possible, though perhaps only advisable if you were an artist/writer/intellectual, I imagine it could be a troublesome piece of personal history for politicians, military guys, etc [although there's Rohm, so hey]. My impression was that usually it was at least tolerated so long as it was confined to your private life and/or appropriate venues. So Lehrgen isn't like, completely ahistorically tolerant of gay people. So you should probably send him those nudes he asked for. I can guarantee you he'll be impressed...by the quality of your phone camera.