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February 14, 1930
General Staff Office, Imperial Capital Berun
When you thought about it, there were a surprising number of benefits to working for the Imperial Army, one of which was the ability to keep a hand on the pulse of international affairs. Everyone in the General Staff Office should want nothing more than politics to continue via its usual means instead of falling back to armed intervention. Without threat of war, they were being paid to kick up their heels and make themselves look busy. A ticket to an easy life if there ever was one.
When rumor around the office had it that a certain former general was in Londinium alongside some of the Empire's top diplomats, you could bet it wasn't to have high tea. That was the sort of news that warranted further investigation. Tanya knew better than anyone that peace was the most desirable state for an army, but not everyone saw eye-to-eye with her on that. Unbelievably, there were hundreds of thousands of people out there who wanted to fight and die without being legally required to do so. She couldn't really pretend to understand that type of mindset, but there was no disputing that it existed. There were days when she wondered whether Being X wasn't right when he claimed to have created them all. Not that she meant that as a compliment.
When she caught Zettour's name said in whispers between two of the typists as she was dropping off a few items of work, she couldn't resist. If he was involved, it could only mean one thing - this had to do with the treaty that had ended the war.
"Klara, do you know what they're talking about?" she asked, turning to the woman next to her.
"Oh? Haven't you heard?"
Obviously, I haven't heard, or else I wouldn't be asking the question, Tanya thought with exasperation, shaking her head.
"I could tell you if you like, but…"
"Yes?"
"You remember how you promised me you'd come out with us girls next time I invited you?"
Crap. I did say that. I wish I could deny it, but I can't get a reputation for breaking my word. No one will trust you with anything important if you can't even keep simple personal promises. I shouldn't have agreed to that so hastily when I had her help me buy a dress for Weiss's wedding; now that the favor's being called in, backing out last minute will look suspicious.
"Yes," Tanya grudgingly agreed.
"Good," Klara smiled, her eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "Then I can tell you. Gertrud, that girl over there in the corner, she heard we're trying to get the ban on aerial mages lifted. Exciting, right?"
Well, it will definitely make my life more exciting. That's a fact. If you need a thrill, go ride a roller coaster. Don't volunteer your fellow man for dangerous activities. Some of us like having boring lives. I knew there had to be a reason we were rushing the development of those flight jumpsuits.
"Why would the other powers agree to that?"
Yeah, that's the main issue at stake. I don't expect Klara to give an insightful piece of political commentary, but maybe she's overhead something. From the perspective of other countries, there's no reason they should agree to our demands. It has the potential to make their lives overly exciting too.
"Well, since we're having trouble controlling our own population, what with the rebel group getting their hands on orbs…it's a bit conniving to use it to our advantage, but..."
That's going beyond just conniving! That's a blatant deception meant to play all our enemies off against each other. Zettour took it a bit far when I suggested we use the situation in Oberschlesia for political gain. What a trickster. I already proved there was no international duplicity involved here. I should have realized the issue with commercial-grade orbs was being kept quiet for more reasons than not causing a public panic.
Really, the ruse serves the Commonwealth right after their duplicity during the war. Pretending they were the defenders of peace in Europa, but they didn't lift a finger until it looked like they had to. They're only looking out for themselves. From their view, what's the bigger threat? Giving the Empire a few aerial mage units back? Or letting the Empire's eastern borderlands get absorbed into the already-oversized Federation's sphere of influence? It's obvious it's the latter.
The Federation also has to consider this. They might know that they didn't do anything illegal, but they can't prove it. If they stand their ground on not repealing any part of the treaty, all of a sudden, it makes them look like the aggressor. They're in the same boat as the Commonwealth. A partial lifting of the ban on aerial mage units isn't enough for the Empire to threaten an invasion, but denying it might make all of Europa band together against the perceived expansion of communism.
Ildoa and Dacia are friendly with us, and as for the other minor powers, the Entente has a bad history with the Rus territories. They don't want to set an international precedent of appeasement when the Federation messes in their neighbor's business. The Republic might complain some, but they won't stand alone against everyone else.
Ahh, well, this isn't a case where being a whistleblower is going to win me any friends. All that gets you is locked up in an embassy. At that point, it's no different than a comfortable form of life imprisonment.
The truth is, for stability's sake, the Empire needs to be able to field some more military strength than our current roster allows us. Supposedly, the Republic and the Federation were planning to disarm as well, but that hasn't happened. Beggars can't be choosers. So long as universal conscription remains outlawed, those of us who don't have any violent tendencies shouldn't have anything to worry about.
"Oh, Tanya?" Klara asked, as she was turning to head out the door. "We'll all be at Bar Windhorst tonight. It's only supposed to be the girls but the boys always find us one way or another. I'm sure General von Lehrgen will understand that today is an important day for all single young women, so don't you show up two hours after all the rest of us."
Never mind. I have much worse things to worry about than geopolitical deceit. A group date on Valentine's Day is ten times more treacherous. I already agreed to go, so I'll have to rely on another excuse to get me out of it. So long as Lehrgen understands that it's in fact important that I don't attend tonight, he can do the job of covering for me. It's the same strategy as asking your mom to tell your friend you have chores when you really just don't feel like hanging out with them.
"General," she said, as soon as she walked through his door, "I need your help."
"Yes, what is it?"
"I promised Klara I'd go out with the girls the next time she invited me," she explained, rubbing her hand over her face in exasperation. "I'm going to tell them that you don't want me to go because I have work to finish, but I'm sure one of them will ring you and ask if you can let me out early this once, so if you could please…?"
"You should go."
No, that can't be right. What's with this sense of timing? He's honestly choosing the worst possible day to let me off early.
"You want me to go?"
"It will be good to get to know the other women better."
I see. Mature professionals like the two of us barely even register things like Valentine's Day. He's not thinking about this as anything other than a way for me to form friendships. He must feel guilty that there aren't many opportunities for me to socialize with other young women.
"You do realize what today is?"
"Yes, yes, of course I do, but you can stay safely in the middle of the group if that part of it concerns you so much."
"I wouldn't want people to get the impression that I'm an…eligible candidate."
There's no use dancing around it. Lehrgen might think it's a little weird, but in the long run, it's easier if he understands I'm not interested in romance. This way, I won't have to worry about him or the other officers thinking I want to be introduced to their nephews or something. General von Rudersdorf let something slip about having a grandson close to my age once, and I could never rest easy around him after that.
"Degurechaff, as someone who's been before, you're blowing this a bit out of proportion. For the most part, the men and women keep to themselves. Trust me. You'll be fine."
I guess I'm not the only one who's been dragged out against my will. If he's going to be so insistent, he leaves me no choice. I'll have to take the nuclear option - binding our fate in this misadventure together. If he says it's not so bad, he should have no problem going himself, right? And if he refuses, then he can't preach to me about how I'll have fun, so he'll have to concede and lie to Klara for me. Plus, in the unlikely event that he agrees to come along, there's no chance of misbehavior from anyone else. In corporate terms, it's like the department president showing up unannounced at the bar all the junior employees are carousing in. It will instantly shut everything down to a respectable level.
"Oh, well if you were going, then I suppose none of them would bother me," she said, rubbing her chin thoughtfully before looking up at him expectantly.
—
Some people brought nothing but trouble. Like Tanya Degurechaff when she walked in your office unannounced and slammed the door shut behind her, face deathly serious. Lehrgen had to calm himself down before he replied to her initial request for help. Anything that had her running scared wasn't something to be taken lightly.
Except, apparently, Valentine's Day.
Lehrgen would have to be more careful around Klara in the future. If she could extract such a promise out of Tanya, her powers of persuasion were something to be wary of. Tanya's female friendships were sorely lacking, though, so for now he'd be appreciative that the woman had worked this miracle on her. Klara would be receiving an anonymous box of chocolates in the near future. He absolutely wasn't going to lie for her and make it seem like she had to stay at work.
He always hoped that one day, Tanya would simply run out of ways to surprise him. There had to be a limit eventually. But today was not that day.
The girls in the office who were single and alone for this stupid holiday, a group which his subordinate technically happened to be a member of, always got together at a bar after work to commiserate over their lack of partnership. Lehrgen was aware of this. Had been for many years.
The reason he knew about it was that he happened to belong to the corresponding group of single men, which there were admittedly more of around the office. It was an annual game, the day or two before, for the men to figure out where the ladies were going and interrupt the festivities. Lehrgen had always tried to escape being dragged along by virtue of the fact that there were an overabundance of willing participants, so his absence was easily forgettable.
As he grew older, the game grew even less appealing than it had been, and by now he was dead set on avoiding the entire situation. He'd spent the day dodging every person he thought likely to mention it to him and ask if he was coming along. Since today was a Friday, his usual excuse of needing to be on top of work the next day wouldn't ring true.
The thought that he'd have to avoid Tanya had never entered his mind. First off, she was probably unaware of the whole thing. Second, if she was aware of it, she'd think it inane. Thirdly, if she was invited, she would certainly not want to join. He hadn't counted on someone making her join, or on her trying to drag him into it as a means of saving herself.
None of them will bother you because you're wearing pants and give off a vibe that anyone that touches you will lose the offending hand would be the most honest response he could give to her latest statement. That wasn't the type of thing you could say out loud, so he'd have to think up another way to allay her unreasonable fear of mixed-gender socialization.
Umm…I never volunteered to be your chaperone, and the world's moved on from the era where you took them along on dates anyway was equally rude. He'd have to think of something else.
Wait. This isn't such a bad idea, he thought, a second later, a novel thought striking him. Truthfully, he was a very low person for considering this. He shouldn't do this to someone. It was horrible. Awful. But as the saying went, all's fair in love and war. And this might shape up to have something to do with both.
When the time came, he'd make a wedding present out of all the books on philosophy he knew of that covered sacrificing oneself for the greater good. No, he'd give his whole house away, library included. He didn't need such a big place all to himself.
It's common knowledge that people are willing to make major changes when they have someone special they want to impress. Theoretically, if Tanya were to find someone that she was interested in, she might decide that indulging her worst vices was less important than maintaining a good relationship with this special someone. Falling in love could give Tanya a reason to change into the best version of herself, perhaps permanently.
Lehrgen felt deeply sorry for whatever man she chose. He wouldn't stand a chance. This was a woman who'd never failed to achieve a strategic objective. Sneak attacks on vulnerable points were her specialty. But no matter how hard it got, this saintly individual could go to sleep every night knowing that the world owed him an incalculable debt.
In conclusion, if Lehrgen had to sit on a barstool and pretend to glare at any boys that looked Tanya's way while secretly giving them a thumbs up, he would do his part.
"Yes, of course. I can go along as well. I wouldn't want to leave you alone out there," he smiled. "Now, back to work so we can leave on time."
He picked up his phone as soon as she was out of earshot.
"Sauer, do you have plans tonight?" he asked, once his adjutant picked up.
"Ah, not with anyone in particular, sir."
"Good. I'm assuming one of the men around the office told you where tonight's party is?"
"No, sir. They never do. A few of the women did, though."
"Right, well, so long as you're available to drive there-"
"...you're going, sir?"
"It's a long story," he sighed. "But yes. Degurechaff's going to ride with us as well. My presence there's already going to ruin whatever fun was going to be had, so you don't need to feel guilty about tagging along."
"I'll have the car ready at five."
"Before you go, I have a strange question for you."
When it came to interoffice dalliances, Ernst was a reliable source. Mostly because he was one of the central nodes of that web. If he could avoid it, Lehrgen would rather not give his real motive for the question he had on his mind. A general in the Army telling his adjutant that he was counting on the power of love to save them sounded like a very fast way to ensure Ernst never respected him ever again. He'd just have to let him think it was mean-spirited gossip over Tanya's personal life driving the conversation instead. The two of them had done enough of it in the past.
"Yes, sir?"
"A day like today makes you wonder...do you think someone would have to be completely out of their mind to date Degurechaff, or only partially?"
His adjutant cleared his throat awkwardly. Ernst was an exceedingly cordial young man, so he hated to talk badly about anyone directly. Lehrgen felt guilty putting him on the spot like this, especially since he knew the young man was absolutely petrified of Tanya.
"Well, there is something about girls with a wild side," he said slowly. "But, ahh, sir, if you want my opinion, I wouldn't...ahh…"
"I know you wouldn't," Lehrgen said, rolling his eyes. "But theoretically, how crazy would someone have to be to do it?"
"There's someone out there for everyone, I guess," Ernst replied weakly.
"You wouldn't happen to have heard that any of the younger men are keen on her?" he asked hopefully.
"Not that I know of, sir."
"Mm. Well, thought I'd at least make sure of what we were getting into tonight."
"Of course, sir. Glad I could help."
—
Ernst Sauer hung up his phone, opened the top drawer of his desk, found the key he was looking for, then unlocked the bottom drawer of his desk, where he kept a small bottle of liquor, and took a swig.
He wasn't quite positive what was happening, but there was no way it was good. A man needed a little help to get through the day at times like this.
His boss hadn't said it out loud, but Ernst had been attached to his superior officer since he'd been promoted out of the Personnel Department some six years ago now. For all the time he'd known him, at least some part of his thoughts had always been devoted to how to rid his life of Tanya Degurechaff. Even now that he liked her better and his heart wasn't in it anymore, it was like a bad habit he couldn't break.
There were days Ernst wondered if it was worth risking his friendship with Lehrgen to tell him that if he'd focused all that energy he'd wasted worrying over her onto something actually productive, they might've won the damn war.
It wasn't like Ernst liked her either. He'd only met her after hearing half a million muttered curses about her, but he'd done his level best to be just as amicable to her as he was to anyone else. Nothing worked. The harder he tried, the more she hated him.
He'd thought, just once, that he'd finally gotten through to her. It was the only conversation he ever had with her that wasn't over work. She'd noticed that his pants had been tailored to fit better than the atrociously cut stock sizes. He'd taken the compliment that she'd been appreciating his physique with only a smile, not wanting to interrupt their tentative truce with an ill-timed comment.
Her next question had deflated him down to nothing. She'd been looking for him to recommend a tailor to her to fix her own problem - she had to buy boy's pants. She was thinking of having them altered to cut a cleaner figure.
The truth was, unless you were one of the five or so people that Tanya actually liked, you'd have to take complete leave of your senses to consider dating her. Somehow, it had sounded like his boss was considering setting the two of them up. If Lehrgen had concocted some scheme to marry her off to someone and end her career that way, well, best of luck finding a willing victim. It wouldn't be Ernst Sauer.
He didn't mean to hinder Lehrgen's plans, but it was unfair of him to unleash Tanya on an unsuspecting crowd. Ernst would have to try to warn the other men not to make so much as a smile at her unless they wanted a brigadier general to take it as a hint he had a candidate to play matchmaker with. What ever happened to the man who'd once grumbled under his breath that one of the other officers should be sent to an asylum for speculating over whether Tanya would ever settle down and have children?
—
Bar Windhorst enticed a younger crowd than Lehrgen was used to being surrounded by. A veritable haven of cheap beer, greasy food, and dirty floors. But there was space aplenty for sitting, standing, or dancing, and a few games for anyone interested.
Klara immediately renditioned Tanya when they walked in, glancing between Lehrgen and his adjutant looking like she was trying to figure out whether, on balance, the company Tanya had brought with her was a good or bad thing.
The women would certainly appreciate Ernst's presence. They may not even mind Lehrgen's so much. It would keep any of the younger officers in line. For those exact same reasons, the other men in attendance would despise both of them for the next few hours.
Lehrgen could sympathize. Really, he could. When he'd been twenty-three, he would not have wanted his commanding officer's boss's boss sitting next to him in a bar. And he hadn't even been doing anything that might have earned a few demerits if he was unlucky. Around a high-ranking officer, you couldn't be on anything less than your best behavior. Dive bars on Valentine's Day didn't tend to bring out anyone's best behavior. But there were more important things at stake. Let the men hate him for the night if they would, he had a more critical mission to complete.
Regardless, out of pity for everyone else there, as soon as he took his coat off, Lehrgen settled himself into a barstool, ordered the least watered-down beer on tap, and opened a tab that would cover the the first and second round for everyone in attendance, with a little bit of food on top of that. He studiously paid no attention to Tanya. No one would approach her under his watchful eye, so he had to make sure he didn't so much as glance in her direction. She was perfectly capable of giving anyone she so desired a verbal or physical thrashing. One thing she did not need on that count was his help.
The beer he was drinking was passable, so he quietly nursed it for a half-hour. He hadn't enjoyed it enough to want a second, but sitting at a bar staring forward neither talking nor drinking would make him look miserable, so he waved at the bartender for another pour.
"Was it any good?" he heard, from near his right shoulder, when he was finishing that second beer and ordering a third.
He turned to face the woman who'd startled him out of his reverie.
"The beer. I was thinking of trying that one, is it any good?"
"Compared to the other ones here, sure," he answered.
"Agh," she groaned, hopping up to take the seat next to him. "I turned thirty at the end of January and I told myself I was done drinking bad beer, and here I am already breaking my promise."
He shot her a sympathetic smile, and they clinked glasses after she got her drink.
"I'm Charlotte," she told him, sticking out her hand for him to shake. "One of your typists."
He opened his mouth to introduce himself in turn, but she got there before him.
"I know who you are," she said, rolling her eyes playfully. "Only one in the office who has gold arabesques on your collar without a head full of gray hair."
"I've got five or six of them," he joked. "But only someone taller than me could tell. And no new ones since the war ended. That's the most important part."
"Oh, so you actually check?" she winked. "How vain."
"And you're telling me you don't?"
She gave a short laugh of agreement and reached a hand into her purse. "Cigarette?"
"I'd love one, actually," he replied, taking it from her.
"So. Who convinced you to come out tonight?" she asked, arching a brow.
"I'm here for...moral support, I guess you'd call it."
"Yes, and you're doing such an excellent job at it," she drawled. "I should have guessed."
He shrugged and took a sip of his drink.
"She's a funny little thing, isn't she?" Charlotte asked after a pause, apparently guessing who, exactly, had brought him along.
"That's one way of putting it," he scoffed. "You know, she was more reluctant to come here than she ever was to head out to the front."
"Maybe I'm oversimplifying things," Charlotte began, "but in its own way, a battle's easy. You have your commander shouting at you, you have your orders, you try to kill the other guy, you try not to let the other guy kill you. And when it's over, you've won or you've lost and that's that."
He nodded along, giving another shrug at the vague accuracy of her statement.
"This, though?" she continued. "No single objective, no good metric to call something a win or a loss, you never know exactly what the other person wants or expects. If she's that type, you know-" she held her hands rigidly out in front of her like she was making a box "-likes everything orderly, well, this might all be too fluid, not enough rules. Maybe that gives the poor girl a hard time."
"You know, I think you might be right about that," Lehrgen replied, to the surprisingly incisive analysis. "Though for a second, I could have sworn you were talking about my own troubles with this whole ordeal."
Her leg knocked against his a second later. "I wouldn't say your case is that bad."
That's where you'd be wrong, Lehrgen lamented to himself. Some people might have a knack for it, but he didn't. To him, trying to decode whether she'd sat next to him intentionally or just had sore feet and a naturally flirtatious manner was like deciphering hieroglyphics before the Rosetta Stone was found. And if she was being more than friendly, that opened a whole new set of questions. Did she want companionship for the next hour, the rest of the night, or was she expecting more than that?
She was pretty, in a very modern, waif-ish sort of way, so if the answer was either of the first two options, he wouldn't mind taking her up on it. Not beautiful, certainly, but then again, he doubted he made the top of spot of most women's lists, so he wasn't going to hold his standards unreasonably high.
He cleared his throat, unsure of how to continue.
"So, how long have you worked at the office?" he asked, changing the subject to safe common ground. He didn't remember seeing her around, so he presumed she was a newer hire.
"Only a few months," she confirmed. "Did the same job at the Police Department for eight years before that. Finally got tired of hearing the grotesque details of all their cases so I made the switch when a friend told me there was an opening. And some nights, for extra money, you know, I work at one of the city's big clubs."
"What's that like?"
"Not as interesting as it sounds. Just help make sure everyone's having a good time. The Resi, you know it?"
Everyone in the city knew the Resi, or more properly, the Residenz-Casino. Half the country even. It was one of, if not the, center of Berun's nightlife.
"I've heard of it, of course, but I can't say I've ever been."
"I'm heading over there later, actually. You really should see it at least once."
"That's probably true," he agreed noncommittally, and she flashed a smile.
"What is it you do, exactly, anyway? I hate to sound stupid, but-"
"No," he interjected. "I'm sure plenty of people wonder the same thing. It's a lot of planning, most of the time. Though now, with what's happening in Oberschlesia, it's become more responding to events as they unfold."
"I understand if you can't say certain things because it's classified, but I did have some questions about that. It seems to me we haven't brought out the full force to deal with the problem, is there a reason we aren't-"
"I can't say much," he emphasized. "But I'll try my best to explain if you'd like."
She nodded, and turned fully to face him. He did the same, and seconds later, he was lost in the details. Charlotte was refreshingly easy to talk to. She had a good head on her shoulders, inquisitive and discerning. He soon found himself explaining parts of his job he'd always assumed would bore most women. Maybe it wasn't altogether such a bad thing that he'd grudgingly followed Tanya along.
"Hey, listen," she said, glancing down at her watch. Lehrgen did the same and noted with surprise that more than an hour had passed. "I've gotta head out soon, tonight's a big night at the cabaret, but I think you've done your job here, so if you wanted to stop by, you know, I'm done at two, so I'll still have the rest of the night free, and-"
The sound of two loud taps on the floor behind them interrupted her invitation, which he probably should decline, because even when he'd been younger modern clubs weren't the sort of places he found appealing, but the way it was sounding, this was more than just an offer to show him around the Resi.
Lehrgen turned to see who had come to pester him at such a critical juncture. He swore if it was his adjutant, he was going to assign him the worst jobs he could think of for the next six months. Half the women in the bar had probably already invited Ernst to spend the night with them, so he had no concept of how rare of a phenomenon it really was.
Thankfully for Ernst, he was free from blame. It was Tanya. Holding two cue sticks.
"I do hope I'm not interrupting something…?" she asked, arching a brow.
You absolutely are, he grumbled unhappily to himself, but how could he say that when the whole reason he was here was supposedly to guard her from her own suitors? Plus, what type of example was this setting for her? If she suddenly got it in her head that it was perfectly acceptable to go home with people you'd just met, imagine all the trouble that could cause. Expecting her to intuitively understand that there was a world of difference between a man in his thirties making that decision and a teenaged girl doing the same would be irresponsible given that he'd be hard pressed to name a single instance when she'd actually acted her age.
"No, no, just...talking about work," he told her, glancing at Charlotte apologetically and hoping she'd understand. The hurt look on her face said that she didn't.
"Good," Tanya said, holding out one of the sticks, "then you're free to play."
"I'm sure any of them would be happy to show you how," Lehrgen said, waving his arm at the group of men around the billiards tables, hoping to get her to leave so he could turn back around, explain himself, and then give more thought to whether it would be such a bad thing to see one of those slightly scandalous new venues, just to say he'd been.
Tanya gave a snort of laughter. "None of them can teach me a damned thing, apparently."
Lehrgen frowned, wondering if they'd refused. "Will they not let you play?"
"I've been playing," she said, cracking a wide smile, "and winning."
He would like to point out to Tanya that being the only female in one entire section of the bar seemed like the exact opposite of how she'd wanted the night to go, but that would have been counterproductive. It was good to see she was participating in the fun instead of brooding silently over a drink.
"The men all say you're their last hope at salvation," she continued. "They told me that you don't get invited to join because it's no fun since you always win."
Lehrgen grinned self-consciously at that. "I do have that reputation," he confirmed.
"Then, Herr von Lehrgen, I do propose we show this sorry lot how the game is really played," she said, handing him the stick she'd offered earlier and turning to walk back over to the tables.
After a brief internal struggle, during which he reminded himself several times that he was a high-ranking officer and high-ranking officers weren't supposed to be led around by typists to questionable clubs, he stood up, gave another look of apology to Charlotte, and followed Tanya. If she was as good as she claimed to be, then at least the night wouldn't be a total loss. He hadn't had a worthy opponent in ages.
He ordered another beer, chalked his cue stick, then agreed to the typical count of 300 for a win, a beer hanging in the balance as the prize.
Tanya insisted that he be the one to break, which was a mistake on her part, so he happily took her up on it. Her overconfidence would be her downfall. Mages always thought they had the advantage. In a sense they were right, but the superb aim their ability gave them made them overly reliant on that skill. Against an amateur player, that was enough to win handily. Put them up against an opponent who knew a thing or two about how to strategize, and suddenly they were helpless.
Lehrgen leaned in to begin the match. He'd take it easy so he didn't embarrass her too badly. He made his way around the table at a leisurely pace, taking a few sips of beer in between each strike, until finally, over fifty points in his pocket, he missed a shot and the table was turned over to Tanya.
Four innings later, he was ready to stomp his feet in frustration.
I know I say this a lot, but how is she so good at this? he asked himself, leaning down to line his next shot up and wondering if he was going to lose the title he'd held for years as the best player in the office. He was winning, but barely. And maybe wouldn't be soon, given that he was getting so distracted he'd just missed again.
I don't understand, he thought to himself, for the umpteenth time that evening. The only place Tanya could have gotten easy access to a billiards table before she was sixteen was at the officer's club. She might act older than her age, but she didn't look it. No respectable bar would have let her in prior, and Tanya didn't seem the type to go to an establishment of dubious repute.
The only time when he could envision her learning was during the weeks she'd been in Berun while training other officers to command the Kampfgruppen. That was a very short window for her to have become as proficient as someone who'd been playing the game for longer than she'd been alive. And anyway, he'd never once heard anyone comment that they'd seen her around the club, and surely it would have caused some sort of stir if a fourteen-year-old had upset all the betting pools. Before that, the last time she had an extended stay away from the front would have been War College. Back then, she would have simply been too tiny to reach over the table or hold the cue stick properly.
So, to the best of his knowledge, this might not be the first time she'd ever played, but it couldn't be far from it.
"Damn," he muttered, as she made a difficult shot that he'd seen but had assumed no one else would, bringing their score perilously close together.
For probably the hundredth time, he wondered if she could read minds. She knew all the same tricks he did and made the same shots he would, even when they were unorthodox maneuvers that a new player should never have imagined making.
Of course, he'd known that even for a mage, she had good coordination. She'd been top-tier in aerial maneuvers and was famous for sniping shots from so far away that she was beyond the enemy's detection systems. But they weren't playing that stupid American version of the game where all that mattered was hitting the ball into the right pocket.
For this game, you needed strategy, needed to see not just how to make the next shot, but how to make it so that it lined up successive shots after that. You had to understand how to nurse the object balls through the balk zones to maximize your score, how to play defensively to make things difficult for your opponent.
Unlike every other mage he'd ever played, Tanya wasted no time making fancy, grand trick shots, but took the same cautious, incremental approach that serious players eventually learned was best, even if it didn't look impressive. She didn't calculate only the easiest way to score the next point, would make atypical choices to increase her chances of favorable positioning for later ones. You couldn't just call it beginner's luck.
Lehrgen smiled with satisfaction when she missed after only pulling a few points into the lead and had to turn the table back over. He'd underestimated her. Badly. Her mind was so powerfully analytical that she must have been able to grasp the complexities of the game just by watching him and a few other players who knew what they were doing.
She deserved to be proud of herself for learning so adeptly. But he was not going to lose to her just so she could feel good about it. Her ego was big enough already. It was time to put down his beer and get serious. The satisfaction of her making her pay for his drink when this was over would almost be too much.
It took every ounce of his concentration, but a half-hour later, he broke 300 and left her with a final count of 267. The mediocre beer transformed into a brew fit for kings when Tanya had to cough up the money to buy it. The sweet taste of victory was almost enough to purge the bitter part of him that blamed Tanya for the fact he'd be leaving the bar alone. He hadn't been this proud of a win since he'd beaten the uncle that had taught him to play.
Tanya did not concede gracefully. She was sore over her loss. Lehrgen knew he shouldn't tease her for it, but as one of the few things he could best her in, it was too tempting not to.
"Finally getting a taste of your own medicine," he laughed, gulping down his beer with a satisfied "ahh" just to make the point, "and boy does it look bitter."
Her gaze darkened, her stance shifted, and for a second he thought she was going to kick him in retaliation.
"You do have the advantage. I might have beaten you if my arms weren't so short now."
This was his sixth beer, if he was counting correctly, and he began to laugh harder than he would have had he been dead sober at the way she'd phrased that.
"Now? I know you aren't tall, Degurechaff, but I don't believe you've been shrinking."
Her face paled, its previous expression of peevishness traded for discomfort. Lehrgen surmised she must be tired of jokes about her height. She wasn't abnormally short anymore, but for most of her life she had been.
Her face cleared in a second. "I just meant that if I grow any more you'd better be up for a challenge," she huffed.
With that, she plunked herself into the nearest chair, like she was determined to have the last word. He wasn't going to give it to her.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that," he replied, settling into the seat across from her. "I wasn't really trying up until halfway through."
She scowled at him.
"I won't underestimate you again," he placated. "All I'm saying is you'll need a good deal of practice before you can even think of beating me."
"Then we'll need to have a rematch sometime."
"Just tell me when and where," he offered. He doubted he'd ever tire of beating her at the game, petty as it was.
"Same time, next year."
"Fine, so long as it's somewhere with better beer. Next time, the wager's two," he said, tossing his head back to drain the inferior brew he had in his glass. "Where'd you learn to play so well anyway?"
"Last year. Weiss and his brothers all escaped to the town bar as often as they could."
"With a family as big as his sounded, I imagine there was at least one other mage," Lehrgen commented.
"His youngest two sisters tested almost as high as he did, actually, but they were too young during the war. Had one brother who didn't score as spectacularly high, but still got recruited into the marine mages once things got more desperate."
"It's interesting how it runs in families like that," Lehrgen said, drumming his fingers against the table. "No one in mine has even a single drop of mana. So far as I know, even in the extended von Lehrgen branches there isn't a single mage."
"Would you...want one?" she asked tentatively, like she was surprised anyone would answer "yes" to that question.
"I wouldn't mind it," he answered, giving her a reassuring smile as he stood up to leave.
Her hesitance betrayed that she was aware of an unfortunate truth - for all their usefulness, mages were still considered unnatural by many people. Not something they'd want in their family tree. If Tanya was wondering whether he found her unnatural, the answer was, of course, affirmative, but her magical talent was towards the very bottom of his list of reasons for that feeling.
February 27, 1930
Grovenor House Hotel, Mayfare, Londinium, the Commonwealth
From his seat by the window of his eighth floor suite, Hans von Zettour watched over Park Street below him. Londinium had so far lived up to its reputation. It was the first clear day he'd gotten in his two week stay.
It was a less tumultuous city that Berun was these days. Fewer beggars, fewer parties, a more sedate approach to politics. What boring lives they all led, going about debating things in Parliament like civilized people instead of relying on armed gangs to back up their arguments for them.
Weak sunlight glinted off the cranes dotting the skyline, the city abuzz with construction being completed now that the war had come to an end and companies didn't fear losing their men to overseas graves. No magnificent sunset was forthcoming as the light receded. Even in the winter, some smog hung in the air and added a haze to anything at more than a middling distance. Zettour could just make out St. Paul's as he sipped the last of his afternoon tea.
Today, the pedestrians going by were distinguishable by more than their umbrellas, so he caught the Imperial delegation returning and knew that he had five more minutes of peaceful contemplation before he heard the knock on his door that would bring his daily briefing.
Sitting at the table alongside the diplomats himself was a political impossibility. The Commonwealth certainly knew he was in their country, and that he was there advising on behalf of the Imperial Army. They could tolerate it. But the ambassadors from the Republic, the Entente, and the Federation never would have suffered his presence. He was left to direct what he could behind the scenes.
He'd have to buy Degurechaff a real souvenir before he left. So far, the Empire was playing its part effectively according to her suggestion. It rankled his pride, and that of every man there with him, but putting on a show of being so feeble as to lack the resources to keep their own population under control was earning a reconsideration of Europaen power balances.
Intelligence had helpfully highlighted every captured member of the Polaskan rebel group who'd so much as glanced at a Communist leaflet, adding ample fuel to the other countries' concerns that this was the first step in a continent-wide spread of the disease. The Federation could rant and rave all they wanted that it wasn't them who'd slipped military-grade orbs into the hands of the rebels. Every protest made them look guiltier.
At this point, they'd all but given up trying to convince anyone, and just wanted the rebellion put down as quickly as possible so it didn't inspire similar groups within their own borders.
Not a single soul beyond who was absolutely necessary knew the truth that Degurechaff had discovered - that a clever combination of existing explosives and commercial-grade orbs was doing the damage. Presumably, the Polaskan rebels liked the illusion of strength it gave them, so they'd unintentionally cooperated in keeping the secret. Hell, even the diplomats here with him weren't aware. They did their jobs with more passion when they believed their own lies.
Just as expected, three solid raps sounded at his door a few minutes later, which he opened to admit his fellow countrymen.
Three triumphant grins greeted him when he did. Silently, he poured four glasses out of the bottle of gin that had come complimentary with the room. Or compliments of MI5, more like. There was nothing better than getting your foreign guests good and liquored up if you wanted to listen in on them spilling their secrets.
Zettour would never say so to his daughter, but hearing "five battalions of aerial mages" brought him more joy than being told he was going to be a grandfather.
"No dual-core orbs, two production facilities, one for military and one for commercial, and the Commonwealth wants unrestricted access to both."
"Good. Reasonable. What we expected," Zettour agreed, taking a sip of his drink. "We shouldn't need more than that to keep our citizens safe," he threw in for good measure. You never knew who was listening from the next room over.
"They've agreed to add 75,000 men to the allowed size of our Army. The Commonwealth wants the Eupern-Malmunde region included in the Lowlands plebiscite. We'll cede northern Schleswich to the Entente. Oberschlesia will be granted additional autonomy, and the Federation wants no customs imposed on purchases from Polaska by Oberschlesian businesses."
"That's steep," Zettour frowned. All that for a paltry 75,000 men and a single mage battalion per regional Army?
"Well, we're here to make friends, yes?" one of the diplomats said, laying a sealed letter on his table and looking at him meaningfully.
"Of course," he nodded. "Thank you, gentlemen."
Once his door was locked and bolted, he sliced open the letter and glanced it over, then threw it in the fire to burn the evidence, watching it go up in smoke looking like a cat who'd gotten the cream. This was better than anything he'd dared hope for. The tension on the Empire's eastern border had pried the Commonwealth away from any of its remaining commitment to upholding a treaty largely written to benefit the Federation.
They were ready to talk about the limits put on the Empire's naval and aviation industries. Now that was worth the demands his diplomats had agreed to.
A/N: Lehrgen comes up with the Make Love, Not War slogan way ahead of its time; Tanya begins to suspect he's a fellow time-traveler.
For reference, the game they are playing is a from of billiards called balkline. There are no pockets and only three balls, and you score points by hitting the cue ball off the other two balls in succession while pushing them around different zones on the table.