"In his seminal work, Clausewitz described what is generally considered to be the nature of war:
"A paradoxical trinity—composed of primordial violence, hatred, and enmity, which are to be regarded as a blind natural force; of the play of chance and probability within which the creative spirit is free to roam; and of its element of subordination, as an instrument of policy, which makes it subject to reason alone."
The trinity has been a topic of debate for two broad schools of thought: the universalists (or traditionalists) and the new wars scholars. For the universalists, Clausewitz's theory of war is timeless and comprehensive: the Clausewitzian trinity and the nature of war are synonymous. In contrast, the new wars scholars purport Clausewitz's theory of war is either temporal, situational, or both." – see Reclaiming Clausewitz's Theory on Victory, Richard M. Milburn
"It is entirely feasible! Vindictive proved that even you cow teeth can –" complained Nauk, before I interrupted him: "By the fifty-thousand hells, there simply is no way!"
The orc snorted, though it sounded more like a predator's growl. "That is your weak Callowan stomach talking Tanya! Back me up on this Nilin," he said, turning to his friend.
"Personally, I also find the idea of relying on 'baby rations' pretty disguising," the dark-skinned man responded neutrally, leaning back on the barstool.
"That is not the problem. You could just secretly add the toddlers to the communal cookpot if you order you're the cafeteria chefs to do so," I piped back in.
"Why would you do that? Grilled is the only right way!" screamed Nauk in mock outrage, slamming his hands on the table. Orcs had a sharper sense of taste and as such, they disliked food with added spice. Or side dishes not made of meat for that matter.
"Figures a barbarian can't appreciate a good stew." Callowans on the other hand were known for their fondness of broths. Quite like the home country of my second life actually, without the many delicious varieties of non K-Brot bread that made such a diet tolerable. Needless to say, I was quite happy to enjoy Ater's cuisine for a change.
"As if there is such a thing as a good stew," scoffed Nilin. "It's like curry without spices."
"Or boiled baby," added Nauk.
"You sure will have to eat much of the latter anyway if you exclusively feed of children. How many pounds of meat are even on the typical baby? You probably will need to cook out the marrow, since humans can't chew bone," I considered, taking a sip of black tea.
While I still had not found a single coffee bean I was now at least closer to the tea plantages of Nok. I had stopped supporting my caffeine habit in Laure, as Mazus had increasingly cracked down on the legal tea trade with heavy tariffs.
"I mean we are still talking about eating kids. I mean there is Evil and then there is disgusting Evil. We aren't the Ratlings, we must have some standards and class," responded Nilin, chewing a large piece of tiger steak.
"And that is the reason you are still a sergeant, Nilin," I sighed with frustration. "You are always too eager to turn a discussion about logistics into an ideological debate."
"Not my fault that instructor Harkas likes brunettes," he grumbled under his breath, probably counting on me being able to hear it.
"Instructor Harkas is an orc," I pointed out. I did not know about any interspecies relationships between humans and orcs, mostly due to the latter group not being attracted to 'flat teeth'.
"Which, speaking of," I said as I turned to Nauk: "Dread Emperor Vindictive also lost a third of his army to mysterious shivers, for which the then Warlock Maledicta identified the cannibalism as the source. Human biology just doesn't allow for us to eat members of our species regularly, so there is simply no way to implement baby rations."
"Well I am only glad that there is a rational reason why we should not eat babies, otherwise our little Gremlin Blue-Eyes would probably order a tenth to test it out," joked the Soninke, using my new nickname.
I had received the epithet after the victory against Lizard Company, and I was fairly conflicted about it. While 'gremlin' was not the most pleasant of monikers, the nickname still was a reference to the legendary general, Grem One-Eye.
"Do not be ridiculous. Why would I waste a tenth on a potentially dangerous assignment when I could just use war prisoners?"
One of the few benefits of being continent-wide pariahs was that there existed no binding treaties between us and other powers. As such we could treat captured enemies as we wanted, though the official doctrine was thankfully fairly humanitarian. A commander could however legally choose to overwrite these rules if circumstances required such.
Not that that had ever happened, as the Legions were careful to observe regulations even during the Conquest. In my opinion, there had been little benefit to that. All captured Praesi were crucified, paying the long price with a long death, as the Callowans were fond of saying. After driving the stakes through the hands of the victim, the actual death would occur through asphyxiation hours later, after the stretched arms could no longer support the body's weight.
My thoughts were interrupted when Nauk started to spew food all over the table, him and Nilin laughing uproariously. "We are gonna make a proper orc out of you yet," said the Lieutenant, displaying his fangs in a wide smile.
Not really understanding what he was talking about, I still responded in Kharasum: "You can talk about proper orcs once you beat me in a spar." With orcs allusions to violence almost always seemed to cause a positive response.
"With an accent like that there is no way you are allowed to talk about anything orcish. You need to growl out the words!" Nilin advised in the same language, before disappearing into his cup of Argh, a high percentage snaps made of grasses from the Steps.
"A bit difficult for someone who does not have her vocal cords burned out by consuming copious amounts of alcohol, even during the day," I countered, just in time for the coughing to start. Argh was an orcish drink that Nilin did not have an additional mucus membrane for, unlike the alcohol's creators.
"Punching you in the throat might be an alternative," Nauk offered neutrally, gashing fangs giving away his amusement.
"Are you even aware of how many stereotypes about violent greenskins you are currently confirming?" I asked in mock awe.
After taking another large gulp, the sergeant came to his commanding officer's defence: "Says the blue-eyed Callowan welp that specifically targets Ogres."
"They were merely the most dangerous-"
"Racial profiling, as I said. Paley doesn't like us tanned folks," he cried out, sloppily holding himself on his barstool and leaning on Nauk for support.
"Though she might have a crush on a Taghreb, considering the fifty-thousand hell comment. What's up with that?" asked Nauk.
Oh, so he picked up on my cursing. It was good to get occasional reminders that behind all the jokes and violence that there was a reason why he was a lieutenant. The Legions did not allow for unqualified officers.
"I am trying to incorporate more local sayings into my vocabulary, to stick out less. Maybe convince the particularly stupid that I am Duni."
Nilin and Nauk both shared a sympathetic grimace before the orc growled out dangerously: "It's instructor Azua, isn't it? Does she need to have an accident?"
"She is still a member of the Legions of Terror," my voice was cold, brokering no disagreement. Even if that old crone had me cleaning out the entire company's latrines for no infraction I knew of. What a terrible manager.
"True enough," the orc agreed instantly, though still unhappy about the situation. I wondered how much worse his response would be if he knew about Sergeant Segu, who had been a veteran scout meant to transfer Wasteland survival skills to the cadets. He had also never served in Callow, and as such had the view he was allowed to take certain liberties with conquered people, even if they were citizens and served in the same army. The dishonourable discharge and the fine after my report promptly disabused him of that notion.
"Why pick a Thalassina saying though? I mean you probably don't know this but… Well, the Thalassinians are considered wackos for a reason," Nilin carefully said, probably worried I would be insulted. "I mean fifty-thousand hells? It's probably the seawater. You never can be too careful with warding schemes," the Sonike added after seeing me not blow up, as if I would ever let my self-control slip that far.
I sighed, before answering the question. "The city is the only place in Praes that has a Callowan garrison."
Not to mention that it was the largest trading port on the actual continent, with only Ashur's island harbours being bigger. I hoped I might finally manage to get my hands on some coffee beans. That no coffee existed in this world was not a scenario I was willing to contemplate.
"Makes sense." They were aware of the difficulties I faced just walking down a street in Ater, standing apart even from the Duni thanks to my blue eyes. "So, your retirement will now be in a seaside villa? I thought you might want to settle in some calm place in Callow," wondered Nilin. With my friends (though they had self-declared themselves so) I made no secret out of wanting to retire. Not before loyalty serving out my full term in our Empire's army, of course. Truthfulness went only so far when my career hinged on my lies.
"Laure did not have a functional sewage system before the Conquest. They also still don't have any public works mages. Or a functional guard force. Or a public health service beyond what the House of Light offers, and they have been known to turn away 'collaborators'."
Nilin chuckled, clearly amused at the medieval conditions a country that had not systematically bred magic into its population faced. "The more I hear about your home the more I wonder why we conquered that shithole in the first place."
"Food security," I responded to the Soninke. It seems that not only in the Imperial Orphanages the actual reason for the Conquest was hidden behind ideological justification. The empire probably did not want to seem weak. Or inform their enemies about its greatest vulnerability.
Seeing the confused looks of my tablemates, I elaborated: "Praes' population is not self-sufficient. Hard to be when most of our country is a magical wasteland with random weather conditions. Not that that stops the extraction of valuable minerals, the only ones not controlled by the Kingdom Under."
"Why is that anyway?" interrupted Nauk. "Dwarfs believe that surface races can own property, don't they?"
"Because of the Dread Empire," responded Nilin with a mean grin. "We just need to send occasional reminders for them not to encroach on our self-created desert, and flooding their tunnels with hellfire and devils seems to work."
"We also unleased three separate magical plagues on them, which all backfired in some capacity," I noted. Superweapons were an old staple of the previous Tyrants, despite their abysmal success rate. I expected one of the Being X's involvement. The number of failures was just too statistically unlikely.
"Back to topic. Our recourse wealth allows us to import grain from Procer through Ashur, and our magical health services mean we have the lowest child mortality rate on the continent, despite what these ignoramus quacks at the house of light believe."
Really, despite priests being able to manifest healing light the church did not bother to have their members study anatomy. Magical healing might be slower and somewhat painful, but at least I knew that a Legion Mage actually knew how my insides should look like. Relying on 'divine guidance' for a gut wound seemed suicidal.
"What that leads to is a population explosion whenever there isn't a war or a famine. Now, purchasing grain in exchange for precious metals should be perfectly fine and a good example of mutually beneficial cooperation. At least it would have been, if some genocidal Fairfaxs hadn't regularly intervened. I always found it amusing, in that twisted dark humour sort of way, that the 'Good' polity cracked down on free trade, starving hundreds of thousands of innocents."
I let my words sink in for a moment, and the quick mind of Nilin already guessed what I wanted to say next. "So the Callowan invasions, and that plague that should kill exactly three out of ten and which kicked off the 'War of the 13 Tyrants", and Maleficent II attempt to conquer the free cities… Were they all done as population control?" he asked weakly.
I nodded. "It is likely, though, in Maleficent's case I believe she wanted to secure a trade route that could not shut down when Ashur remembered that they are a 'Good' polity, instead of bleeding Praes population as most Callowan invasions did. It is even possible that the Sinistra's disastrous ritual was an attempt to secure a better food supply, as there had been a drought for eight years leading up to that point." Stroking my chin, I reconsidered: "It is also possible that she was simply mad. You know how reliable I consider historical sources before She-Most-Dread."
Smiling, despite still being quite obviously disturbed by the revelation that his country had been doomed to starve for centuries, Nilin joked: "Yeah we have heard your crackpot theory. The funniest part about it isn't even that you believe that three hundred years of history were fabricated or altered, but that you just categorically deny the existence of the Gods Below."
"As I have explained multiple times there is no such thing as a 'god'. Only powerful entities that believe themselves as such and use their 'godhood' to justify why they are an absolute moral authority," I responded, incredibly annoyed at the mere mention of my Arch Nemeses. Nemesises? I could not believe that a nation so obsessed with villainy did not develop a plural of Nemesis. I would have to look up the proper term in a dictionary later. The entire Being X species should be held accountable for their abuses of power and horrible customer service and hopefully sentenced to a particularly painful death.
Sensing my irritation, Nauk switched topics. "Anyway, what Thallasinian warding schemes?"
"Malificent II had her Warlock carve the most complex wards in existence into the local coral reef. I heard every time a new coral grows a new ward gets added to defense," the Sonike informed his superior, and I tried not to feel jealous about his broad knowledge. The imperial orphanages provided an excellent education but sadly focused mostly on Callow and its administrative needs. Nilin was in War College thanks to a state sponsorship, having transferred from the imperial schools. Those were free public schools with a mandatory ten-year internship in the state bureaucracy. Needlessly to say, I was quite jealous of the chance my friend threw away to become a soldier.
"Could the same wards be added to the Waning Woods?" wondered Nauk out loud, having the exact same first thought as I did when I heard of Thalassina's defences. Sadly, he would be as disappointed as I was: "Won't work, I checked with an instructor. Apparently, the large number of magical monsters would disrupt most sorcery and that is not even getting into how pissed off the Wild Hunt would be if you added hundreds of what are effectively thresholds to their favourite hunting grounds."
"Pah fae, my grandma has this wonderful recipe with cinnamon and lemons…" The orc tailed off at the end, licking his chops with glazed eyes. He might already be a bit drunk. "Anyways, I didn't know thresholds could screw so much with the (there was no exact translation into Mthethwa for the Kharasum word he used, but it boiled down to 'delicious prey that bites back ineffectually')."
"Ever wondered why lieutenant Kilian always asks if she can come in?" provided Nilin. I had not noticed that myself. The Soninke really was unnaturally observant. If I ever needed a spy or a scout I would know to whom to turn.
"She really has it bad, doesn't she," winced Nauk. It was an open secret amongst Rat Company that the mage lieutenant was a quarter fae, which caused issues when she drew on too much magic. Her body tried to become a full fae if she did so, with her diluted blood merely leaving her as an unconscious twitching mess.
"Is it true that she was passed over as Captain because of her issue?" I asked. The rumour was fairly widespread and considering Ratface's performance I could only ever imagine him as the last possible choice.
Nauk nodded, adding: "Same reason I was passed over, though at least she doesn't start killing her friends when her 'issue' surfaces."
"You have become way better at suppressing the Rage," Nilin consoled him, before slapping his back in a sign of brotherly affection. I never understood why that was a male bonding habit, even in my first life as a man. Admittedly I also did not understand most female bonding habits. I knew however that the societal expectation was that you reassured melancholic friends.
"It is objectively true that you enter it less often, for a shorter duration on average. Not to mention that our countermeasures have an almost perfect track record," I stated, hoping that facts and logic would be convincing enough. Emotional arguments were not my forte.
"Thanks, guys," Nauk smiled sadly. I guess getting better at it now was of little consolation to the orc. After all, he was in the Legions because he had murdered a racist merchant during the Rage, with his only alternative being the noose. "Though I wouldn't call you beating me up until I snap out of it the perfect solution Tanya!" He laughed, returning to his usual boisterous self.
"It is a solution," I shrugged. "Honestly though, you would be a far better Captain than Ratface."
"I mean he is not that bad," said Nilin, voice unusually pleading.
"Why are you defending that idiot?" I scoffed. "The fool has to be the most incompetent commander in the entire history of the War College!"
"Hey now, the man has his talents," piped Nauk back in, his irises constantly darting around. Was he getting dry eyes?
"Yes, half the War College makes use of his smuggling services and I would be pretty screwed if he cut off my supply of goblin munitions," I admitted before the anger crept back into my voice: "That doesn't change the fact that he has led us to eleven consecutive defeats if we count his idiocy from last time. Who in their right mind would think that Captain Morok would attack a steel reinforced gate when the rest of the palisade is made of rotten fucking wood?!"
Cursing was unusual for me, but I couldn't help it in this post-work bar setting. Company rankings depended on the number of victories, and we were in the deep red on last place. Worse, the results of the wargame's also affected your final assignments after college. And if I did not want to be tasked with patrolling the Wasteland like other expendables we needed to win some matches immediately. Which would never happen under our current leadership.
"Ratface? More like Ratbrain. How anybody can pass all their lectures with the amount of brainpower our 'Captain' has access to should be added to the Scroll of Great Mysteries!" I complained, fury at the most incompetent superior I had ever served under uncontained.
"Hey Tanya, I don't think it is a good i-" I cut Nilin off before he could finish his sentence, the conversational faux de pass not registering through my anger.
"A good idea? I tell you what was not a good idea. Naming Ratbrain as Captain! Lieutenant Pickler would be better and she deliberately keeps failing advanced tactics so she isn't put in too high a command, which would pull her from her war machines!" I actually respected the goblin, though her deliberate failing annoyed me a great deal on principle. Still, if someone had a specific niche they enjoyed and wanted to do that as a job, who was I to gainsay that? I was no communist.
"Hells, even Sergeant Robber would make a better Captain, at least he understands the terms 'skirmish' and 'attack' beyond whatever textbook definition Ratbrain learned by root! If they added any kind of practical tactics test to the exam that fool would be thrown out years ago," I sighed.
Nauk seemed to be wanting to say something, still doing that weird eye movement, but Nilin stopped him: "No, no let her continue. This is too amusing."
"I don't understand why you find it funny that we are saddled with a deadweight equal to an allied Bellophonian army," I squinted with my best glare. It had caused former employees to cry on multiple occasions, although that might have more to do with them being unreliable drains on the company. That kind of person probably cried for the smallest of reasons.
"Ratbrain is an idiotic imbecile so unprofessional that he takes his ridiculous public grudge against his ex-girlfriend with him to Spite Valley. Not that it even really matters, considering how much Captain Aisha outclasses him in every way. So we would lose to her under his leadership regardless even if he stopped planning out maneuvers because of petty revenge!"
"You were right. This is hilarious," said Nauk, nodding wisely.
I scowled at my co-workers. "This isn't funny," all the anger leaving my voice, only the cold certainty of a veteran of the Greatest War remaining. "We are the worst-ranking Company by far, which means we will get the worst post and worse ranks. I doubt any of us will even be a Lieutenant after College. Though at least the promotions might happen quickly if our superior gets mauled by a sentient tiger. Assuming of course we survive the pack's ambush or any of the other escaped experiments of the Tower."
"You think they will send us to patrol the Wasteland," Nilin asked faintly, all humour gone. His home city was Aksum, also known as the 'cauldron of monsters'. He knew exactly what awaited them, out in the desert. There was a reason the patrols were mainly staffed by the undead of Legion XI, but the vampires couldn't cover the entire country by themselves.
"Yes, most certainly. Ratbrains performance is so unbelievably bad that he drags us down with him. No matter our test scores we will probably be seen as expendable incompetents considering we are forty-one. points. in. the. negative!" I screamed out that last part, though not particularly loudly. I had no intention to inconvenience the other patrons of this establishment.
"And look at the other Captains who have led us to this mess, they at least had the decency to resign after multiple losses and not a single one of them has lost ten matches in a row!" My voice took on a disbelieving quality, as I continued: "How is that even possible? The sixth one was on defense against Wolf Company, with stone walls instead of a rickety palisade. Captain Aisha doesn't even field a single Ogre or heavy!"
"Her sappers managed to crawl through the waterpipes and 'kill' most of us in their beds," a smooth male voice from behind me said. I didn't bother turning, continuing to lecture my friends: "If Ratbrain had paid attention to the very topic we covered in 'advanced siege craft' a day before he would have known that twelve percent of all fortresses fell the exact same way. All he would have needed to do is position a single mage at the well. They could have shut down the entire attack with a single Heatball, and boiling the water should have been a precaution anyway. Ratbrain is lucky that Captain Aisha did not remember a family poison recipe (which my Thagreb subordinates informed me was common) or decided to throw some dead animals into our water supply. Considering his only real talent is logistics that is even more damming!"
"How are you in advanced siege craft?! You haven't even been at the academy for a year," the shock had caused the stranger to fall into a more natural aristocratic accent as he voiced his outrage. Nobels, always willing to butt into any private conversation that didn't concern them. At least the unseen men had not pulled a chair to our table, probably because in the packed restaurant there were no empty seats, not because of any sense of shame. Hopefully ignoring him would work.
Nilin seemingly did not pick up on my strategy, as he actually responded to the newcomer: "Tanya finishes most non-magic classes in a week, three at most."
"That was Instructor Nomea's fault, not my own. As if I didn't publish a corrected version of her graduation thesis," I scoffed, still annoyed at the unfair treatment.
"Have you considered calling her proposed static defense line a 'pipedream that at best might rescue a few sheep while the rest of the country is overrun' might have something to do with it?" wondered Nilin.
"Huh, why? The headmaster and the rest of the teachers agree with me after we wargamed it out." Was Instructor Nomea unprofessional enough to develop a personal hatred towards me because her project was not accepted by the CEOs? No, I could not imagine anyone being that emotional, maybe with the exception of that loser that pushed me in front of a train.
"You play wargames with the teachers?" asked the aristocrat, still not taking my continued lack of even glancing at the man as a clue to leave. I could be reasonably certain that he was just a former noble, as many of them ended up in the Legions. Here they were protected from courtly intrigue. Additionally, I couldn't imagine a Lord visiting the kind of establishment we were currently residing in. One of the selling points to the goblins and orcs were the large numbers of rats scuttling on the floor. 'Free snacks', as Nauk had put it.
"Considering they have to face her in the classroom I am also wondering why they spent more time with her," chuckled said orc.
"Something about nurturing special talent, was it?" asked Nilin.
"According to Instructor Karago," I confirmed. "Still won't help me any when graduation rolls around," I said darkly. Looking into my cup of tea I noted that almost all of the black liquid was already gone. "Especially, since, if I keep up my pace I will graduate shortly after Ratbrain loses his final match," I continued, then taking the final sip. "It isn't even possible for me to suddenly start failing classes and wait for the next Captain, since the teachers would all wonder why I suddenly became stupid."
While for the most part, I had befitted from the unique education style of the college where you could attempt to pass a lecture at any time, it was times like these I regretted my rush.
The system really was interesting. Should you fail your exam the penalty was harsh as overestimating yourself just three times could lead to expulsion. An exercise in risk-taking and judging your personal ability correctly, they called it.
In addition, just passing the written and verbal exams was not enough. You also had to demonstrate yourself capable in the classroom, with teachers constantly quizzing their students. Should the instructors find you unready, it didn't matter whether you passed the test, they could still hold you back.
That was what happened to me in 'advanced tactics' until I had published half a dozen papers about the topic and the headmaster took notice.
As impressive as a school for officers was in a pre-industrial state, this 'war college' couldn't hold a candle to the real deal. The Imperial War College of my second life was the most modern and advanced academy of the twentieth century, boasting instructors sourced from a population far large than the entirety of Calernia's. It had been the life's work of geniuses like Zettur and Rudensdorf, and countless other soldiers who had been forged in wars of a scale this world could not even imagine. The Imperial Francois war, the Humbling of the Rus, the Brahati rebellions, the civil war of the Unified States, and the Greatest War. Armies millions strong marching across entire continents, supported unconditionally by post-industrial nations states and led by uncountable officers who devoted their lives to studying every possible aspect of war. Was it any surprise then that a medieval empire's college couldn't compare?
The tactics I learned in my second life were refined for almost five-hundred years longer, and I was an old hand now at adapting my historical knowhow to the existence of magic. I would thank my lucky stars that I had so much useful knowledge if I believed in such nonsense. In truth, any balanced and educated individual should make an effort to study history, sociology, economics and philosophy, as I had in my free time. Most importantly for my continued survival, I also studied war history in my first life.
I was no genius, merely a grifter stealing ideas to which I had no copyright. My innovative papers were just advances already implemented in my first and second life, or logical conclusions anybody with my training and experience could come to. It would have been pathetic for the eleventh graduate of the real War College to do anything else.
Now, however, my pace might unintentionally kill me. "The only things staff tribunes look at are hard numbers, scores which are either forty-one points in the red or where I have to cheat to even remain in the course," I told my friends. The stranger wouldn't know about which class I was talking about, though both of them knew about my 'solution'. My magical problems showed no signs of improvement, and once we got to healing magic my trick wouldn't work any longer. While I was having some minor success with imperial magecraft, I had to be very, very careful when casting without a computational orb. I hadn't even dared to cast the explosion spell, not that I even could do so unassisted. For the most part, I had been working on a proof of concept, trimming down the flashlight spell as much as possible. I still almost blinded myself during my experiments.
"Not that you two will have it any better," I sighed. It would be a terrible waste of sapient resources if these two ended in the belly of a chimera. "Like the rest of Rat Company you can also look forward to tracking through the deadliest magical catastrophe in the world, including the Kingdom of the Dead, before being permanently transferred to Tenebrous if whatever shits you out only digests your soul." I angrily cut into my steak. It was not my fault my superior was this incompetent! And unlike in the private sector, I can't just switch companies.
"Soulivores have been trendy for centuries," nodded the Aksumite, no longer quite as pale. "Still, deadlier than Keter? No way I believe a place that repelled six crusades is more harmless," he argued.
"I said Kingdom of the Dead, not Crown of the Dead, didn't I? Not like you can even enter the capital, considering the giant ravine around it. For the rest of that blasted Ashland however? Lyconese patrols suffer twenty percent lower casualty rates than off-road Legion patrols."
"And while undead might taste like rotten jerky, at least these humourless blonds get to die in proper combat," added Nauk. Figures that the orc would prefer going down fighting skeletons. Not that I could really blame him. For a century before Empress Malica's reign, the most common cause of death in the Wasteland had been invisible brain-eating parasites that also activated every single pain receptor in the body while feeding.
That was until the current Warlock had discovered a Hell populated solely by devils who ate brain-eating parasites. Nowadays the top contender was acid rain, though it was only half a percentage point above the runner-up, immaterial anacondas that could still eat material people, somehow. Third place were still the sentient tigers, though breeding with wild specimens had slowly decreased their intelligence. They had even stopped fielding armies! Music that was sometimes created by glass storms (themselves in fourteenth place) which first turned the listener mad, then cannibalistic, then sane again before killing them via internal consumption was in fourth place. Here too, the difference was but a percentage point.
Frankly, there were so many dangers in the wasteland that it never was a certainty what exactly you would die from. That is why the betting pool and the ranking existed.
I myself had put my money down on a stonefish to land the first cadet kill this year when we crossed the wasteland on the way to Spite Vally. Despite them being only the 714th likeliest cause of death, with a mere 0.032 percent of deaths attributed to them, I had still put down a month's worth of wages on them. Those nasty buggers actually looked fairly alike to the Earth variant, only a dozen times larger, terrestrial, and just as poisonous. With the additional ability to be able to turn into actual stone to trick their prey, as Atrocious II grew bored with artificial lungs and spider legs. They also had a fairly predictable migratory pattern that should take them close to Ater soon. Imagining all the money I would fleece from the goblins brought a smile to my lips. It vanished a moment later when I realized that I might have little chance to spend it.
"Nauk, us officers need to do something about Ratface," I whispered, the sharp hearing of his picking it up. "Mhm." He leaned back on his chair, a grimace on his face. "Didn't you just stop any action against Azua? I am uncomfortable about going against a comrade."
Sighing, I answered: "Instructor Azua has me cleaning the latrines, which while disgusting will not kill me." I emphasized her title. For all her faults she was still a ranking member of our organizational hierarchy and as such deserved respect. I was already uneasy about gathering all the officers to make a complaint to the teachers. It was dangerously close to insubordination, even if the 'request for removal' of an incompetent superior was covered by a fairly obscure peacetime Legion law. Still, it was risky. If the teachers sided with Ratbrain he would have free reign to pursue his grudge as he pleased. And a man who had renamed himself Ratface because he looked like his father did not strike me as forgiving.
"And neither should my leadership," came the voice from behind me. Once I processed the statement I whirled around, coming face to face with the impolite former noble who also turned out to be my captain. Shit.
"Sir, I must apologize profusely, I am off duty and have consumed far too much alcohol-" He interrupted my panicked lies. This really was a terrible situation! For the first time in three lifespans, I had badmouthed a superior and was of course immediately caught. What could I do? What should I do? I tried to remember back how employees responded when they were called out for insulting the company on their social media posts, but I could rember nothing but my annoyance at paying these people a salary. Should I growl? Act drunk?
"You only seem to have had a tea," Ratface said, pointing one soft hand at my cup. The man really was more bureaucrat than soldier. Admirable, if he had not picked the exact career unsuited to his talents.
"Sergeant Nilin shared his cup of Argh with me," I replied without missing a beat. I might be internally panicking, but I had received the order to burn Arne with a smile. My appearance and voice did not betray any of the uncertainty typical of liars.
"Nilin's cup is still mostly full," responded the Taghreb with a smile on his face. That at least was a good sign. Or it might not be if he was a sadist. Curse you Being X!
"It is already his third. You know how he is, sir," I said, talking over Nilin's protests. Did my friend want me quartered!? "I sadly do not hold my liquor quite so well and that is why I made these inappropriate comments. I will of course accept full responsibility and am extremely sorry."
"You are awfully coherent for a drunk," noted Nauk. Did both of my 'friends' want me dead?
"Let's hope you are coherent enough to remember this tomorrow, doing this once will be bad enough on my purse already," said Ratface. He was still smiling that damned smile of his as he climbed on our table, very deliberately stepping on Nilin's steak.
"Rat Company! Listen up, I got something to announce!" screamed my superior. The rats-nest as it was appropriately called was the main diving place for most of our company, so the local quickly became silent. Well besides the scuttling of the actual rats but you could make yourself heard now.
"One sin!" he called. "One grace," I and everybody else screamed back. I quite liked the official motto of the Legions. It certainly was a better motivator than juvenile cats hanging on a rope. How is 'keep hanging on' anything besides acknowledging that you barely can keep up with your work load?
"Brothers and sisters, I have sinned!" Boos answered that statement, though Ratface placated the mob with a single hand gesture. He really was quite popular with the rank and file, though that was probably more because of his smuggling operation than his tactical acumen. Maybe his appearance also helped? Other women told me that he was good-looking.
"It is true!" He cried out, drawing himself up. "I sinned, and there is no excuse. There is victory, the only grace. There is defeat, the only sin." The former noble waited for a moment and I belatedly realized that he must have had lessons in rhetoric. "And I have sinned!" he lamented, breaking the silence. "I have sinned ten times. Ten times I have led our company to defeat! There is no excuse for that. For there is only one grace that matters!"
On some unseen signal, the legionnaires screamed as one: "Victory!"
"For there is only one sin!"
"Defeat!" and this time I joined my voice to the call.
"That eleventh time, I would have been defeated! I would have disgraced us, once again." He had howled the first part of the sentence, before whispering the second part. Every member of Rat Company heard him still.
"But it was not to be! We were graced, which has been most elusive for us." Chuckling darkly, our Captain continued: "No more! Sinners do not deserve second chances, never mind ten!"
This time there were no boos, the audience spellbound.
"For there is only the victorious leading the legions!" he shouted. Suddenly the orcs began stamping, the ground shaking in a rhythmic thump. "Victory! Victory! Victory!" The humans called, while the goblins and orcs were gashing their teeth. A gesture of approval as I would later learn.
Captain Ratface leaned down, holding out an arm to me. Confused, but still willing to go along with my superior's whims I grabbed the offered hand. He pulled me up onto the table, holding up my arm up as I had seen referees do with successful pit fighters.
"This is who has led us to victory! Who graced us!"
"For there is only one sin!" answered dozens of voices. Almost the entire company must be here!
I responded immediately with the correct response, and it felt like an oath. "Defeat!" the Captain and I screamed.
"For there is only one grace!"
"Victory!"
Turning to me, smiling wildly my superior whispered: "I already enjoy being a cadet again." Before I had a chance to unpack that statement he had already turned back to his audience.
"Drinks are on me! All hail Captain Foundling!"
"Hail!
Hail!
Hail!"
AN:
First up I want to apologize for the long delay, I got really into ER in quarantine and set it in my mind that I just had to beat it at rl1 no summons. Elden Beast and it's bulshit star attack kept me busy for two weeks alone. (I am convinced that fight was planned with Torrent)
Well, this chapter was dialogue heavy. Something I actually quite like, as I feel that there is more action going on than in the far more thought-heavy prologue and first chapter. Maybe I should cut some of the world-building in the prologue. Can see how that might turn people unfamiliar with APGtE of. That is why I added a poll to see how many of the readers fit in what category, and to see on what I should focus on. What do you guys like more? Fast paced dialogue or large segments of Tanya's logic/thoughts between the dialogue lines? Comment below.
AN Praesi betting
on how the next person dies to an evil monster is a very Praesi thing to do I feel. I hope I am showcasing more sides of the country, from which Cath was isolated/protected due to her rank.
AN war college:
For all that the education the characters receive there is important to the story we learn surprisingly little about its inner workings. We know that the school has a headmaster, who is often defenestrated via catapult. We also know that Pickler failed Advanced Tactics, so failing lectures should be possible. So I mostly based of the inner workings of what Black/ the Legions value, which is rational assessments and calculated risk-taking. I feel like my proposed systems covers these bases, and it also allows me to demonstrate Tanya's ridiculous OP ness. The girl has trauma from her first life about not being able to compete with 'geniuses' so she tends to categorically deny she is exceptional. Hell, her dream is to retire peacefully after an average career.
AN: Tanya is a dog person, btw.
I think there is one interview with Carlo Zen that confirms that factoid, but the only proof I need are those super cute panels in the second manga volume where Tanya plays with a husky. I really like these humanizing moments that are largely absent from the anime (I am probably the only fan who would have exchanged every single fight scene for more meetings. They are the best part.)
AN Captaincy & Ranks:
I wonder if anybody noticed that Tanya did not ever call Ratface captain in this or the last chapter while referring to everybody else by rank and name. Until at least the speech, where he displayed enough capabilities as a leader and superior for her to acknowledge him.