Waking up on a train has become a far too common occurrence for Erich von Lergen over the course of the war. Even as he gained rank and medals, the needs of the country kept him moving between the front lines, the capital, and various garrisons of captured territory.

The writing was on the wall, the weight of the knowledge every day they were marching ever closer to losing from having over extended and being far too successful grew greater and getting to sleep became harder even as Erich did his best to take any small moment to sleep.

Yet, that weight seemed to be missing. The sky out the window was dark, indicating the day had yet to properly start, but Lergen did not feel tired. He did not feel stressed. His papers were out, showing he had fallen asleep while working. Not wanting any military secrets slipping into eyes that should not see them, he gathered up the papers into his brief case quickly before heading to the wash room.

What greeted him in the mirror at first confused them surprised him. The wrinkles that had begun to form were gone, as was the gray popping up around his temples. Looking himself over more thoroughly, he saw his dress uniform was missing the medals he had earned and the rank insignia was far too low.

His breath getting heavy, Lergen checked the door, seeing it was locked he opened his brief case and began to look through his papers. It couldn't be happening. Magic was real, but he was no mage. He could not have accidentally cast such a spell.

A half remembered story from his childhood that originated from the Middle East came to mind. A story of a magi traveling through time, but it was the magi who traveled not a regular person.

A note with his current orders was found among his papers. He was in route to a military academy for officer cadets in training. A visit for what should be a routine inspection.

His eyes stared blankly at his fisted hand, the note crushed within his grip. This inspection would have been long forgotten if not for one individual. His breathing became ragged. One individual who haunted his nightmares for years. One individual solely responsible for both preventing the Empire's loss and for giving the politicians and the higher brass confidence that total victory could be achieved instead of having made a peace deal far sooner to end the war.

One individual who had power enough to perform such a spell. One individual unhinged enough that if she believed doing so would win the war and if someone asked her to do anything she could to achieve victory she would do it.

The Angel of the Battlefield; the Mistress of Death; the Rusted Silver: Tanya von Degurechaff.

Erich was on his way to meet her for the first time again.

"No. Not again. Not again." Erich's hand reached towards where he kept his service gun... to come up empty.

His eyes turned to the mirror. The war was nearing its end. His time having to work with that creature should be close to over.

He was frightened that he would have to hold her back when the end came to stop her from continuing a war that was lost long ago. Now he would have to watch it all come crashing down again.

He could feel his teeth gritting and grinding. He did not ask for this. He did not want this. He pulled out a cigarette from the pack in his breast pocket. With the slender rod in his mouth, Erich fell to the toilet. His hands shook as he took out and struck a match along the side of its box. The smell of sulphur briefly tickled his nose as he waited a moment for the head to burn away the chemicals before lighting his smoke and taking a long comforting drag. The warmth filled his lungs and his hands began to still as he focused his world on just this moment. His mind was cleared of concerns as he took a moment to feel the buzz of the nicotine begin to hit his system.

With a slow breath out as he filled the bathroom with a haze of smoke, Erich slowly began to work through the problem. He could not allow his emotions to control him. He was a man of reason, of logic. He was a Lieutenant Colonel of the Empire.

Scratch that, he was in the future a Lieutenant Colonel. Currently he was a recently promoted Major. Only a single rank of difference that would not hinder him in the short term.

It was currently 1922. The war would not begin until the Norden incident in one year's time. With hindsight, Erich would be able to put plans into the right places to adjust the start of the war.

Erich's shoulders fell as the thought crossed his mind that there was no preventing the war. Even a little girl with an interest in violence could tell that war was in the air, that all of their countrymen were ready for a battle to test their military against the nations surrounding them on all sides. No stopping his countrymen dying in a war started by other countries afraid of the Empire's military might.

The smoke drifting from the lit cigarette danced in the bathroom. Staring into it, trying to decipher meaning from the meaningless, a small thought began to tickle the back of his mind. He was no great fighter. He was not a great tactician, nor a strategic mastermind. What he was is a highly organized individual who knew where to place people for the best results. People he knew how to use.

The creeping feeling as the haunting way Degurchaff described humans in her writings slithered up his spine. Sometimes Erich saw a carnival mirror of himself in the girl's works. What he might write if he were devoid of humanity and decency.

As much as he despised it, she was the best person for what he needed done and he was in the best place to insure she ended up where he needed her. Personnel was his department and with the military academy inspections under way he would be able to insure he spoke to the correct persons to move her to the battlefields she would do the most good on and then to the ears of the men who would listen to the strategies and suggestions she would be able to come up with.

He might not be the perfect soldier in every category, but Degurechaff was able to hide her true nature under the guise of a perfect soldier.

Tossing the butt of his cigarette away, Major von Lergen tidied himself up, placed his papers back into his briefcase, and stepped out of the bathroom to go back to his seat. The train began slowing down as it reached its destination and Lergen could see through the windows that the sun was up. He had spent a rather long time in the bathroom.

The sun shone. The birds chirped. The Great War was not yet lost.