Montgomery's dacha was, while opulent, reserved by the standards of the Imperial nobility. Composed of dark wood and light gray stone, it harkened back to a simpler time during the country's history. From the porch, several windmills were visible in the distance where a farming village, despite York's objections, considered him their liege. As the absent Lord of the region, he went as far as to refuse to collect any kind of grain tithe or property tax, citing that war rationing was already pushing the peasantry toward revolt; the decision certainly raised a few eyebrows among other members of the aristocracy.

Inside the villa, Nikola and Chiara were greeted by a musty foyer. An earlier variant of the Imperial flag was displayed in a glass case right next to the door. This version lacked the standard eagle and heraldry, featuring only the red and gold bars. The piece of history was lost on both girls, as their attention was grabbed by the sound of a chaotically fast violin melody filtering throughout the house. Its notes were broken, alternating quickly between high and low without a discernible rhythm. Curious, they ascertained the unsettling music was coming from the basement, the doorway leading down into it outlined with an eerie blue glow. Quick to head off their curiosity, Karl ushered them past. "The Lord Commissar's tenant doesn't like to be disturbed. This way." He had no intention of introducing the girls to the Commissariat's most dangerous living secret.

He gently pushed Nikola and Chiara into the furnished study located at the very back of the estate. A large bay window filled the room with sunlight and allowed one to look out across the fields of grass behind the house. All around the room were high bookshelves that stopped at the ceiling, filled to the brim with all sorts of texts ranging from Imperial history to scientific discoveries. Hung nearby was a commanding portrait of the current Emperor, giving an impassioned speech to a crowd of onlookers in Schwartzgrad.

Karl pointed to one of two couches that were seated across from each other, a mahogany coffee table between them. "Sit. I will go find the Lord Commissar." Nikola and Chiara complied, and their attention shifted to the steaming obsidian teapot with gold etching. There were three matching glass cups, next to it along with a bowl of various types of bread.

Chiara greedily reached for one, and Nikola slapped her hand, scolding, "There is no way those are for us."

"I am so hungry though." Chiara pouted, eyeing up the treats. Her stomach growled noisily and she tried to distract herself by picking at the skin around her nail.

The violin continued to play, and Nikola winced when a particularly wavy note managed to cause her head to throb. She grumbled, massaging her temple. "Are they torturing an animal?"

A familiar tapping caused them to look up at the door, and sure enough, in stepped Lord Commissar York. He was dressed more casually than when they first met. His black coat was gone, revealing a pressed white button-up shirt and suspenders that attached to standard military-issue trousers. "Good, good. You have arrived." He limped over, taking a seat on the other couch. "I sent Ludwig on an errand. He will…"

Another ear-splitting note was played, and Montgomery got up again, face indiscernible. "One moment." He limped out into the hall and shouted, "Give it a bloody rest, Saeoth! We have guests!" Nikola and Chiara exchanged looks as the music abruptly stopped. Muttering in annoyance under his breath, the Lord Commissar returned to his seat. Dispensing with the pleasantries, he asked, "In X-0, you two were Heinrich's enforcers. Enlighten me, how did you like to keep the rank and file in check?"

Excited to be asked something they could answer, both girls began to talk over one another, listing numerous methods they loved to use, ranging from flogging to a crude beating. Chiara cackled gleefully, "Nothing is more fun than breaking a disobedient man's nose!"

The corners of Nikola's lips finally cracked into a smile. "Oh… when their screams become choked, it is so wonderful."

Their psychotic tendencies did not impress Montgomery. "How droll." He leaned his cane against the side of the couch before resting his hands on his lap. "I guess I shouldn't be surprised. Heinrich was always a man of limited capability." His mention of their Lord got the girls' attention and he continued, "Cruelty is nothing more than a primitive Valkyurian solution to discipline." Once again, neither Nikola nor Chiara knew what to say, but when the blonde girl's stomach began to growl, she puffed out her cheeks in embarrassment. York gestured to the food on the table. "Oh, please. Help yourselves."

Carefully Nikola reached for the teapot; she was parched and desperate for a drink. Unfortunately, her frazzled nerves made it an excruciating task to manage. After some clattering and spillage, she stopped, embarrassed, before softly asking, "Could you do it?"

"I'd be delighted," Montgomery said, his suspicions confirmed that the adjustments documented in their case files had done significant damage to their basic motor skills. As he poured the warm copper liquid into each cup, Chiara, who had no qualms about being rude, set upon the pastries like a wild animal. She began to shove multiple pieces into her mouth, chewing loudly. Ignoring her, he slid a cup in front of Nikola. "Try it."

She gingerly picked up the cup and anxiously held it with both hands in front of her face. Nikola knew it wasn't poisoned–she knew poisons and could usually smell them without much effort. The aroma was strong, pungent, and reminded her most of Belgar's bourbon cabinet. She took a sip, fully expecting to not be able to taste anything. She was pleasantly surprised to find the tea was strong, and she could almost taste a hint of something fruity. Nikola's unrefined palette left her without the ability to name the sensation, so she instead looked to York with a pleasant befuddlement. "It's smoky?"

Pleased by her civil attitude, Montgomery nodded. "Indeed. Imported from the Far East. Those men know their teas." He watched as Chiara, having had her fill, reached for the second cup. "Is it to your satisfaction?"

Nikola frowned, staring at the liquid. "I am not sure." At some point, adjustments had resulted in her being unable to taste anything–not that something like her needed to derive enjoyment from her food.

Chiara took a noisy gulp and swallowed, then immediately grimaced. "Eyuck…" She stuck out her tongue childishly. "It's like drinking ash."

Montgomery was genuinely insulted by her assessment but kept his calm expression. "That is merely your uncultured opinion." He reached underneath the table. "Let's get down to business. Ludwig told you that I have something I'd like addressed." He placed two manila folders in front of them. "These contain all the information regarding your… experimental project." He tapped each one ominously, then continued, "Official reports sent to his majesty, Science Board recommendations, and of course, Heinrich's notes. Quite enlightening, to say the least." No moves were made to pick either up, and he kept talking. "However, I have one concern."

Chiara stared back at him. "Okay, and that is?" She was fighting the urge to look at what Lord Belgar had to say about her performance.

"The last update notes the surgical placement of a low-yield ragnite explosive device into each subject's side–to be detonated on command," Montgomery said, genuinely disgusted by the depths his rival would stoop to. It bordered on the absurd. At being reminded of the final adjustment, Nikola worriedly touched her side, a wave of nausea washing over her. She had almost convinced herself it had all been a bad dream. Meanwhile, Chiara nervously bit at her thumbnail, equally troubled. Recognizing their terror, Montgomery reached down to adjust his lame leg before speaking. "Rest assured, my men found both detonators and have already deactivated them."

"W–why?" Nikola asked, baffled by the act of kindness. Chiara's eyes widened in complete disbelief, as she found it equally incomprehensible.

Montgomery put a hand on his chin, "Performative brutality is reprehensible." He smoothly moved to fix his glasses. "As is blaming a subordinate for one's own incompetence." He stood, walking unevenly over to one of the shelves. "Intellectuals like Heinrich are predictably vain. Incapable of self-reflection, desperate to push responsibility onto others."

Confused Chiara huffed, "That does not make any sense, though. Failures…" She was about to say did not deserve second chances, then fell silent realizing once again that she should have died.

"Let me put it this way then," Montgomery said, his finger trailing across the spines as he searched for the book he wanted. "If I shot every man under my command for failing to perfectly carry out my orders… The last act of such a tragic comedy would be to shoot myself for handing down impossible orders." He glanced back at his new agents. "Men like Heinrich are parasites who corrode our Empire's heart and serve to make my job difficult."

Nikola was on her feet instantly, her teacup clattering against the table. "How could you say that!? Lord Belgar was a visionary!"

Montgomery didn't react, only offering a small shrug. "Visionary? Don't make me laugh." He found the tome he was looking for and removed it from the third shelf. "Sit down, Miss Graf. My opinions on an… obsolete man do not matter." As far as the Commissariat was presently concerned, Heinrich Belgar died in Schwartzgrad with the rest of his division. Montgomery limped back to his seat before continuing, "Besides, this is about you two. Those bombs, if left alone, will kill you. Long term exposure to ragnite can be harmful to the body." He placed a thick book on the table. Its title was An exploration into Ragnite's Properties by Albert Miller.

"Kill us…" Nikola mumbled, a creeping cold overtaking her body, spreading out from the surgical scar on her side.

Chiara had a markedly different reaction. She twitched several times, and then, to the shock of the two others in the room, started to cackle hysterically. When she finally stopped, she forced a single word from between her clenched teeth. "Bastard."

Montgomery could respect the assessment, "Not to worry. I am on good terms with a surgeon who can remove those things. She's a bit… unorthodox, but talented–and she owes me a favor."

Nikola maintained her guard, "This is a lot of trouble to go through just for us." She glanced over to her partner, who was understandably fuming at the new revelation.

"Too many commanders in our Empire operate under the shared delusion that our manpower is a limitless fountain. That we can simply hurl bodies at a problem until it goes away," Montgomery said flatly, reaching for his cane. He got up. "Fools, the lot of them. Our loyal citizenry is not expendable." He tapped the silver hilt, then nodded. "Please excuse me. I am going to make the necessary calls." He walked to the door, pausing again. "There is a washroom around back. You are free to use it once you are done here."

He left them alone, shutting the door behind him. Glad that he was gone, Chiara gleefully reached for another scone. "You gotta try these Nikola. They are so sweet." She popped the flaky treat into her mouth, chewing it whole. She glanced to her right, seeing her partner staring blankly at the manila folders on the table. "Nikola?"

Nikola leaned forward, putting a finger on the surface; it was smooth. Her heart was beating heavily, and her breaths became shallow and anxious. She retracted her hand into a fist. "I… I–" Her mask cracked briefly. "I do not want to look."

Gulping the food down, Chiara snickered. "What, are you scared? Hehe… Little Miss Perfect is worried she is a big failure, no different from me."

"Am not!" Nikola exclaimed, throwing the folder at her partner.

Panicked, Chiara shot up, sending her cup flying, then she brushed the files away. "Ah! No!" The crash that followed caused her to flinch. Desperate to deflect blame, she waved a fist, "Why did you make me do that!?"

Crossing her arms, Nikola was quick to cut right to the heart of the problem. "I did not do anything, moron." She pointed to the folders now on the ground, settled near a puddle of tea. "Go on, Chiara. Let's see what Lord Belgar thought about you." When her partner remained motionless, she invoked a harsh tone she often used to give orders on the Magnus and sneered, "We already know, though, right? You are a useless lead weight. So monstrously stupid that you could not even retire yourself like ordered." Not satisfied with the hopeless expression on Chiara's face, Nikola decided to twist the knife harder. "I told you we should not attack the Centurion. What a brilliant idea… Honestly, it's amazing that Lord Belgar loved you at all."

Her cold demeanor meant it was impossible for Chiara to see how her partner was hurting herself with each cutting remark. It was too late to reconcile the damage, and in a blind fury, she grabbed the teapot. "I hate you, Nikola!" Angrily she raised it above her hand and then threw it down, the beautiful glass shattering on top of the folder its contents soaking through. "I wish I had never met you!"

Realizing the personal notes from their old master were forever ruined, Nikola twitched, a pained grimace crawling onto her face. "Chiara… Do you have any idea what you have done?" She stomped her foot, "Those might have been the last words Belgar ever left us!"

"So?! You did not want to read them either!" Chiara yelled back as the two inched closer to each other.

"That is not the point!" Nikola barked back, hunching slightly ready to lunge at any minute. "We could have later! Now we will never–" she interjected with an accusatory finger, "because you have no self control! You ruined Lord Belgar's plans! You, Chiara!"

"You helped!" Chiara screeched as she rushed forward, colliding with her partner like a train. The two fell backward, slamming against the wooden floor. She roughly yanked on a handful of blonde hair, "I could never do things my way ! Because you were always interfering!"

Nikola spat into the brown girl's face, then punched her straight in the side before finally bringing her knee up, hitting Chiara square in the back and causing her to lurch forward. " Your way! Your way was wrong!" Rolling right, Nikola managed to launch another savage attack while her partner was still on the ground. She kicked the other girl's side. "Lord Belgar loved you anyway! You should have been grateful!"

Chiara screamed incoherently, nimbly leaping to her feet. This time when she tackled Nikola, the two crashed headfirst into the coffee table, loudly splitting the wood surface and sending wood chips flying. Digging her knee into Nikola's thigh, Chiara snarled. "He left me behind!" She struck Nikola's face again, just below the girl's nose. "Die, you miserable sow!"

The commotion could be heard in every part of the house; at some point the mysterious tenant, hearing it, started to play on their violin again. Its refrain filled the house with the same unsettling long-note melody from earlier. Montgomery decided it was not worth losing another limb to save his property and opted to step outside to read the paper.

Ferocious fighters thanks to their brutal training, Nikola and Chiara possessed almost limitless stamina. Coupled with their adjustments, which left them unable to process pain normally, even after an hour of exchanging blows, neither girl was ready to give in. Chiara grabbed her partner's blonde head and slammed it straight into the bookshelf with a dull thud. Nikola retaliated by clawing at the other girl's throat that they finally both swayed, collapsing next to each other.

There, surrounded by broken glass, torn books, shreds of paper, and blotches of blood, the two breathlessly stared at the ceiling. It was unclear who started laughing first–but once they did, neither girl could stop.

A stabbing pain in her chest finally caused Nikola to gasp and she groaned, touching her bruised forehead, "Ugh… I think you cracked my skull." Shifting slightly caused her vision to spin, so she squeezed her eyes shut.

Chiara struggled to sit up and crudely spat blood onto the floor. "Good." She obnoxiously proceeded to thump her partner's cheek, causing her to pull away. "Come on, Ni-kola. This is nothing."

She snickered, poking around Nikola's side, who shuddered and cracked open an eye at her. "One more time, and I am going to cut off your hand."

Chiara hastily removed her hand and slid back down to lay flat, arms outstretched. She inhaled deeply, wincing when her side throbbed. Thinking back, she muttered, "Training was way worse."

"Without a doubt," Nikola agreed; she remembered her first stay in the Orcinus Magnus's infirmary was a result of having to handle a live grenade without proper instruction. It was certainly a product of a lack of ethical restraints on their project. She carefully rolled onto her side so they could be face to face. "I miss home."

"I do not," Chiara grumbled angrily, choosing to avoid looking at her partner. She tightened her hand into a fist, her upset about being abandoned transitioning into a burning rage. Through gritted teeth, she growled, "Forseti ruined our fun. The moment he joined, Lord Belgar was always too busy to play."

Play was a fundamentally childish misunderstanding of the Doctor's attention. Their excited interruptions were tolerated in order to better document where to apply the next round of adjustments. Otherwise, he was increasingly absent from X-0's affairs, spending weeks secluded in the laboratory. Uneasy, Nikola felt a familiar sensation of being watched and she looked down at the floor between them. "Chiara…" The feeling that her longtime companion was rejecting their entire world was more than upsetting. "That is not true. He wanted to make time for us. The invasion just took priority."

"Uh-huh. Right," Chiara retorted, entirely unconvinced. Standing alone on Arch Plaza had entirely shattered her faith in their former master. She shook her head. "He better be rotting in the ground… because if I ever see him again… I will–" She stopped, biting down hard on her tongue. Grimacing, she mumbled, "Do nothing."

She couldn't voice her true feelings, and Nikola saw the pain in her comrade's contorted face. They weren't allowed to have objections, let alone resent their treatment. There was a moment of silence as the blonde girl chewed awkwardly on her lower lip. Meekly, she sighed, "Do you mean it?

"Yeah, I hope he rots," Chiara spat out. She raised her arm, wiping a trickle of blood from her split lip in a quick motion. "He lied."

Nikola whined and shook her head quickly. "No, I did not mean Lord Belgar." Her eyes flitted to the smashed tea set. Whispering, she asked, "…Do you really hate me?" Her heart skipped a beat, and she braced for the truth. Their shared misery had cultivated mutual cruelty, a relationship that would be difficult to forgive.

The violin continued to screech as Chiara remained mute, staring into space as she processed the question. She disliked hearing someone she genuinely admired sound so pathetically vulnerable. Annoyed, her eye twitched and she pushed herself into a sitting position. "Of course not, bonehead. We have so much fun working together."

Her words helped reassure Nikola's tortured soul, as she had been engaging in agonizing self-flagellation since their separation. Shakily, she allowed herself to breathe. Attempting to maintain her aloofness, she replied, "I am… glad." She reached over but stopped short of touching her partner's leg. "…Thanks for not leaving me."

It was obviously a struggle to say, and Chiara rolled her eyes. "You are being weird, Nikola." She playfully thumped away the outstretched hand. "I just did not want to be a failure alone." She struggled to her feet, using the bookshelf as support. Hunched, she snickered, "No one gets to kill you but me."

Nikola smirked and also pulled herself into a standing position. Side by side, she shot an arm out, catching her comrade off guard as she put her in a headlock. Roughly she dug a knuckle into the top of Chiara's head, cackling, "Too bad you are so slow!"

Desperate to escape the trap, Chiara swung wildly. "Ah! Ah!" Unable to pull free, she shouted, "I give! I give!"

Satisfied, Nikola released her and offered a fist. "Partners?"

"Partners." Chiara grinned as the two fist-bumped. She rolled her neck, bones audibly popping. "I hope the old man was serious about a bath."

The bathhouse was located behind the dacha, in a well-insulated stone building with two high transom windows on each wall allowing sunlight to shine down onto a smooth, levadia black-and-red marble interior. It was, without a doubt, the most luxurious place on the entire property. The water was drawn from a nearby lake and heated by using a ragnite furnace. Nikola and Chiara, upon entering, were greeted by hot steam gently floating to the top of the roof. It seemed that everything had already been prepared for them as they were busy destroying the study.

Ecstatic that a frigid shower wasn't in her future, Chaira tore off her prison rags, tossing them into the air, and dove into the basin. Her head broke the water and she squealed. "It's amazing, Nikola! Hot water!"

That was a change of pace, and Nikola smiled as she hastily undressed, tossing her garb onto a wooden bench. She noticed their old uniforms had been placed nearby, neatly folded. She wrongly assumed there was an unseen servant around when preparing the bathhouse had been Karl's errand–the Lord Commissar, after all, did not believe in servants' work. She then slid into the water, breathing a deep sigh as the warmth swallowed her body. For the first time in years, Nikola didn't feel like she was on the verge of freezing to death.

Besides Chiara's splashing, a content quietude settled over them both as they finally, after so many weeks rotting away in a prison cell, were able to scrub the grime and gore from their skin. Gone were the reminders of the Crystal Sea, the battle in Schwartzgrad Plaza, and the basement of the Commissariat.

Using a provided towel, Nikola wiped her face once, then repeated the action another ten times. She only stopped when Chiara snickered, chin peeking out from above the water. "Maybe if you scrub hard enough, that ugly mole will come off."

"Why you–" Nikola's eye twitched, and she kicked her partner's shin; the other girl yelped, slipping as she crashed backward into the water. "Hmph. Consider that a lesson."

Chiara came up for air, sputtering. She fumed, "Here, let me help you!" She lunged, catching Nikola off guard, whose head was shoved under the water as Chiara laughed gleefully.

Jerked upward by her hair, Nikola gasped; despite being blinded, she seized the opportunity and swung wildly. Her fist connected with flesh and an agonized shriek was heard. She was released and her eyes flew open. "What is wrong!?"

Chiara whimpered like a scared dog, clutching her side. Exactly where the bomb was located, she shook. "It-it's– sore." She sat, shoulders hunched just at the water's surface. "Why…"

A simple question, but one that plagued Nikola as well. Instead of saying something cruel, she waded over. "Because, we were special." –A lie. She reached for the towel she had been using. "Here let me clean behind your ears."

There was no protest from Chiara, who complied, holding her hair up with one hand. At first, she kept her eyes forward, however, they slowly drifted back so she could see her partner's mangled side. They both were covered in snake-like surgical scars: across the sternum, lower abdomen, the base of the neck, and arms. Unlike Valkyria, Nikola and Chiara didn't regenerate their lacerations. There was one that was different, though: the bullet wound that had been crudely stitched by Volker, just above where the bomb was installed in Nikola's side. The sight of this was deeply upsetting to Chiara, who mumbled, "We no longer match."

Nikola stopped, her eyes widening. She gingerly put a hand over the injury, hiding it from view. "I know." During the early days of training, they compared their marks like soldiers did medals. It was a source of pride, showing they were strong enough to be worthy of Belgar's praise.

Dropping to her knees, she wrung out the towel, letting drip down Chiara's back who fidgeted, not used to the gesture since expressions of care vanished in their relationship at some point growing up. "Did it hurt?"

Pausing, Nikola sighed, lowering her chin onto her partner's head. "Yeah, a lot." She gently slid her arms around the other girl's waist. "I was really scared."

The admission shocked Chiara, whose jaw dropped. At first, she was unable to formulate a response–the honesty made her nervous. Nevertheless, she touched her companion's hand lightly. "So was I." After a minute of respite, she was released and they switched places. Once Nikola was cleaned, the two girls climbed out of the basin and dried themselves off. Their uniforms had been folded and set on the bench near the entrance, so they set to the arduous task of suiting up. Like a second skin, Nikola and Chiara instantly noticed a few alterations had been made. It begged the question if the Commissariat had always intended to recruit them. Namely, the ISB pins were gone, replaced with a thin silver one depicting a crow holding a sword. The kite shield that normally held the collar of their suit together had also been replaced with a solid black one, prompting Nikola to muse, "Hmm. Why does the Commissariat avoid using heraldry?"

"That is obvious. These creeps do not want anyone to identify them," Chiara said astutely as she fastened the snaps that attached her boots to the rest of her leather pants. "You saw how Commissar Ludwig carries himself. Hes a murderer… but does not know how to enjoy it."

Her analysis was accurate, as far as Nikola was concerned. She adjusted her collar, making sure it was perfectly even. "Zero pleasure… It almost makes me feel bad for him." The greaves were next, and she fitted them on her wrist. "The Lord Commissar, though…" She paused, trying to decide exactly what she thought about Montgomery. "He is telling the truth and lying, at the same time."

"Keeping secrets, you mean," Chiara added, sliding her red beret onto her head. She frowned, and immediately took it off, looking inside. Her eyes lit up as she saw her precious green and blue beads inside. "Nikola! They gave them back!"

Nikola took a single step closer so she could look over the girl's shoulder and rolled her eyes. "Ugh… I will never understand why you kept those ugly things."

"They are not ugly!" Chiara exclaimed, shielding her beads with her hand. "They are really pretty." She sat, attempting to loop them through her hair. "And… you said they were a present." She could only fumble with the beads because, like Nikola, her nerves were shot. Chiara pouted, pushing out her lower lip. "Can you do it right?"

Nikola still didn't really grasp the significance, but sighed, sitting next to her comrade. She pointed toward the far wall near the basin. "Face that way." Calming her breathing, she steadied her hands, focusing intently as she tied the purple-hued black hair through the beads. It was a ritual, one done almost every morning on the Magnus. When she finished, she tapped Chiara's shoulder. "There. All done."

Chiara was beaming and patted her thighs excitedly. "Thanks!" It was like holding onto a piece of her ever-ground-down humanity.

Her happiness made Nikola feel better. Thoughtfully she touched the edges of her own hair. "…I wonder if they have a pair of scissors." To keep control of herself, she liked to handle the maintenance of her edges and bangs. It might have resulted in a rough, uneven mess, but just like Chiara, the routine made her feel human.

They finished getting dressed and headed back inside the house. Looking around for their new commander, eventually, Nikola and Chiara were drawn to the voices being heard on the porch at the front of the building. So they carefully crept their way along toward the door, listening intently.

Montgomery and Karl were standing on the edge of the wooden porch, as the girls opened the door just enough to hear their conversation. A red sun was beginning to set, its glow illuminating the face of the Lord Commissar as he held his cane out like a sword. "It's always the same story, Ludwig. Why bother helping our Empire, when you could enrich yourself at her expense?" He clicked his tongue a few times. "Our motherland used to be different from the West."

Karl was skimming a dossier in his hand. "It's as Varrick always liked to say, decadence has bred a rugged individualism that is corroding the very foundation of what once made us strong." He flipped the page and looked at his boss. "Should we intervene?"

Nikola and Chiara craned their necks, trying to get a better understanding of what was being discussed. Montgomery brought his cane back down with a thump. "Send Ulyana. She has been asking me for a more stimulating assignment. I'd say this is perfect for her."

Karl made a scratch on the page, then shifted to the next folder, flipping it open. "A few field marshals have lodged a formal complaint against our men. They claim we are over-stepping our authority."

Montgomery put a hand on his chin in thought. "Curious accusation from the very same men that handed Siegval over to the Federation without a fight." He scoffed, shaking his head, "They fear being dragged into the light and facing justice, as all criminals do." The two girls were just about to reveal themselves when he changed the subject, "Tell me, Ludwig. What do you think of Heinrich's… pets?"

Chiara twitched at his choice of description, tightening her grip on the door frame. Nikola remained quiet, as Karl closed the second report. "No reason to be so cruel, Monty." Using his free hand, he skillfully fished out a cigarette from his pocket, bringing it to his mouth. "They are enthusiastic and, according to Volker, resilient. Also…" He chuckled. "If your study is any indication, fierce."

"That tea set was a gift from Lord Nori," Montgomery muttered glumly while leaning into his cane, having enjoyed his audience with the Lord of the Far East. The two men bonded over their love of exotic teas. "Each one is hand crafted by their smiths, subtly unique."

Karl lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply. "I am sure we can find a suitable replacement." He paused, his demeanor changing. "There is one thing that bothers me…"

Montgomery raised an eyebrow, curious. "What is that?"

"Is this really what it's come to?" Karl asked the air, which was filling with gray smoke. He sighed dejectedly. "Experimenting on our own people? Torturing children–to produce what, exactly? A better soldier? As if our soldiers are not already the best of Europe… What did his majesty ever hope to achieve with such a pointless project?"

Reaching over, Montgomery placed a hand on his comrade's back. "I don't believe that question can be answered, as I doubt even he could tell you. That worthless old fool abandoned our Empire a long time ago to chase the fantasies of the Yggdists and their collective delusion of saviors." With that, he snapped around suddenly. "How long exactly are you two planning on standing there?"

"Huh?!" Nikola and Chiara exclaimed together as they awkwardly shuffled into view.

They were getting ready to make excuses when Montgomery clapped his hands together, "Wonderful. You two are quite skilled at hiding your presence." He raised a single finger, "However, I learned the hard way the consequences of not being aware of my surroundings. So do not feel bad."

His reaction stunned both girls, who were fully prepared to be reprimanded. Chiara made a fist, confused expression cementing into pride. "Of course! We are the best after all!"

"The best," Nikola repeated, confidently crossing her arms.

Montgomery lowered his hand back onto his cane's hilt. "Right, and is it customary for the best to completely destroy my study?"

Chiara smirked at him like a cat who had no intention of moving from her spot. "If anything, we made it more inviting."

"It's true. Now it has character," Nikola added in agreement, eyeing his cane just in case he tried to strike at her.

Montgomery grunted at their childish response, but let it go. He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Alright. I am going to be brief." He gestured toward his subordinate. "Ludwig here is going to be taking you to meet Doctor Min. She has agreed to do the procedure to remove those bombs." He could tell they were nervous about the idea, and added, "If ethics are a concern, she is no longer employed by the Science Board and instead manages a small clinic on the outskirts of Schwartzgrad."

He had personally averted her deportation three years prior when charges of stealing laboratory data surfaced. The Lord Commissar concluded the claims were fraudulent lies of jealous colleagues and directed Doctor Min to assist the lower class of the city instead.

Nikola placed her hands on her hips, clearly uneasy at the notion. "Then what?"

"Then? Well, you will be taking over our efforts to bring the Nord Republic back into the fold." Montgomery said as vaguely as possible. He snapped his finger. "Actually, that reminds me. I need a name for this new brigade"

Chiara scrunched up her face. "Name? Aren't you in charge?"

Montgomery gave a stiff shrug, "Officially? Not in regards to this particular unit." He leaned a little closer, whispering, "I prefer to avoid drawing undue attention to my work. There are those who might see the formation of a second mechanized force as tantamount to planning an… insurrection." He gestured at them. "It's wholly yours to mold. I want a name for… archival purposes."

Taking him at face value, Chiara looked up at the awning above thoughtfully. "Hmmm."

She didn't have to think too long, because Nikola blurted out, "Kriegstotcher." Everyone looked at her, intrigued by the choice. "What? We only exist to fight the Empire's wars. Our unit should reflect that."

Chiara considered the word, pursing her lips. "I like it."

"A little too poetic for my tastes, but it works." Montgomery nodded as he turned toward the other Commissar. "Ludwig, would you please return their knives? Soldiers should have a weapon."

"Of course," Karl said as he pulled a wrapped dark cloth from the inside of his long coat. Four hilts were visible, and he offered them to them. "Cleaned and sharpened by Volker personally."

Chiara and Nikola snatched their precious blades away, gleeful to no longer be disarmed. The former began to amuse herself by sheathing the removing the knife over and over. She giggled softly, enjoying the sound of metal against leather.

Nikola on the other hand licked the tip of one. Satisfied, she smirked and put both away in a single motion. Karl cleared his throat, getting their attention. "Like I mentioned, your crossbows were sent ahead. An engineer under our employ is doing his best to make compatible bolts that are comparable to what you are used to."

"What? Why comparable?" Chiara asked, realizing their quivers had not been returned yet.

Montgomery fixed his glasses, "We simply do not have access to the resources or manufacturing capabilities X-0 enjoyed. I promise, you won't notice a difference."

Huffing, Nikola said, "We better not. Otherwise it might impede our performance."

Karl blew another cloud of smoke out, then coughed, clearing his throat. "Noted. We need to get moving. Recovery is going to set us back at least a week, so the faster Min can see you, the faster we can get the show on the road."