-April 1923-
Heinrich stood on the balcony, looking up at the vast starry night sky. The sight of so many twinkling planets filled the scientist with an intoxicating sense of wonder; he wished his long-time research partner Albert could have been alive to see such a magnificent sight with him. Doctor Belgar at this time still possessed much of his youthful passion, and by all accounts was quite an attractive man. With striking, slicked-back black hair that stopped above his hunched shoulders, he projected an air of sophistication. He was a man of science, after all, one who knew his worth to the Empire.
The sounds of footsteps on the stone balcony pulled Belgar from his beloved moon. He sighed wistfully. "It is a lovely crescent tonight. Come and see."
His grey eyes flitted to the newly promoted Lord Commissar of Schwartzgrad. Montgomery held two glasses of the finest vintage, red wine in each hand. Imported of course from the vineyards of Zwolle. He too had yet to be aged by the stress of his position. There was no need for a cane, and he still carried himself with the fanatical zeal that defined his existence.
He came over to his comrade and handed him one of the glasses. Heinrich thanked him. Montgomery looked up at the stars. "It is indeed. The majesty of the cosmos does much to humble a man's spirit," he replied thoughtfully.
Satisfied by the response, Heinrich brought the wine to his lips. In the cold glow of the moon, one of the men stood in a pristine white uniform, the other adorned in a deep black; together they had taken on the stagnant autocracy of the Empire and carved out places for themselves. It was an alliance of strangers in a strange land. Two kindred spirits who had left their homelands to bring about a new world.
The wine was softer than the normal brands housed in Montgomery's cellar, and Belgar found it warming as it settled in his stomach. Looking over at Montgomery, the scientist tipped his glass toward his friend. "A congratulation is an order for your promotion, esteemed Lord Commissar."
"Ah-" Montgomery held out his glass. "It would have been impossible without the Science Board's glowing recommendation." The two glasses clinked together softly. "Your letter and kind words did much to sway his majesty." Politics aside a carefully administered vial of poison did much to ensure Montgomery and his faction of fanatics were able to seize power from the previous Lord Commissar. Sometimes he wondered if Foka died with pride that his star pupil had learned how to play the Imperial game of power.
"I am glad. No one is better suited for the position," Belgar said, taking another drink. He gazed into the shimmering red wine, which glowed in the light of the lanterns that illuminated the scene around them. "I am surprised though," he continued, causing Montgomery to glance over. "I was certain you would have accepted the barony in the South."
"Oh, come now, Heinrich. I have no desire for such frivolities." Montgomery smiled. "How can I possibly serve the Imperial Alliance if I am distracted by my class?" He took a drink of the wine and watched his companion's face.
Heinrich's brow furrowed slightly, but otherwise, his demeanor remained warm. He could not comprehend the lack of drive for recognition, but he had accepted Montgomery's unorthodox want to stay in the shadows of history. "Suit yourself. Although, one cannot deny a title would give your name some weight."
Montgomery couldn't help but laugh as he put a hand on Heinrich's shoulder. "I care not for rank. I am just humble servant of our motherland, no different then the rank and file." Keeping his hand in place he changed the topic. "But enough about myself. I heard the Emperor has given you permission to begin trials with the valkyria."
Heinrich nodded and turned to face Montgomery, whose hand rested once more against the balcony, close to his own. "Between you and me, I hold little hope for most of the girls with potential." His eyes harbored a dark intent. "Even if my adjustments are thorough, only a few of them are going to be resilient enough to survive the initial tests."
"Do not let it discourage you," Montgomery said, trying to be reassuring. "The path of discovery is hardly a clean one."
"True enough. Too few understand that innovation requires more then a couple of broken bones," Belgar said wistfully as his mind briefly brought up memories of working with Miller. "I am grateful to have finally found someone who can appreciate the sacrifices required to change the current scientific paradigm we hold so dear."
There was of course an irony present in his statement. For Belgar sought nothing more than to bring to fruition the peaceful applications of his work but to achieve that, he had to dirty his hands in the pursuit of its military applications.
"And there will be many," Montgomery agreed, moving away from the granite railing and walking over to a small glass table at the edge of the balcony. After setting his wine glass down, he opened a small greenish box on the table, removing a finely carved wooden pipe. He methodically checked its contents before placing it in his mouth. Before lighting it, still facing away from Heinrich, Montgomery spoke once more to clarify. "The machines of destruction will soon be on the move again. A lasting peace is impossible as long as those arrogant republics hold fast to their supposed moral superiority."
For a man like Montgomery York, the short peace that broke up the two largest conflicts in Europe's history was just a pause on the same conflict. In simple terms, he saw the Second European War as nothing short of an extension of the first. Ideological differences between the superstates were impossible to reconcile; the Federation was determined to strangle the Empire, isolating it from the world.
"Is that so? Pity," Heinrich sighed, turning from the beautiful sky. "I suppose I will have to put my project on hold again." He walked over and took a seat at the table. He watched quietly as Montgomery pulled out a match, striking it and lighting the pipe in his hand. A sweet aroma, not unlike burning fall leaves, soon drifted over toward the scientist.
After a few puffs, Montgomery looked over. "Ah. Do not worry, Heinrich. I doubt the Federation has the guts to challenge us openly anytime soon."
Heinrich put a hand on his chin in thought, "That is true... but perhaps I need a war to create the conditions for a proper experiment." Ragnite implosion was still entirely theoretical, and it was no help that the Empire's focus was pivoting toward the creation of Valkyrian soldiers.
"Then let us hope for one," Montgomery said suddenly with a twinkle in his eye. He placed his pipe down and picked up the wine glass again. "To another European war. One whose fire reaches every corner of this Earth and ends with the total destruction of all our enemies." He paused, his lips quirking into a smile. "So my dearest comrade can have a sufficient testing ground for all his research."
There was a darkness hidden in his words. An observant man would note that if a fire reached every corner of the world, then it would stand to reason that such an inferno would consume the Empire as well. Perhaps Montgomery always knew deep down at the base of his soul that the path he walked would bring ruination to all those he loved. A legacy of ashes was his to claim.
But at that moment his passion was dizzying. Heinrich found his spirits lifted, so he brought up his glass, and said, "And so you, Dear Monty, can fell the Gods themselves."
That night was the last time the two men spoke as friends. In a few short years, they would see each other as bitter rivals.
-2 April 1936-
Having been working through the night, an exhausted Montgomery was still sifting through the various reports scattered across his desk when the sun began to peak through his office's drab curtains. Without his right-hand man, he was having to work overtime to stay on top of the increasingly unstable situation threatening to tear his Empire apart. Hopeful affirmations that the war would soon be over, were madness to the very man who had to process reports on the true reality of the front. Mutinies, desertions, and cases of fragging were flooding in from every Commissar posted across the motherland.
Then there was the fact that from all sides the sharks circled. In the West, a stalemate had become a meat grinder with neither side able to regain the initiative. Far to the East troubling reports were arriving of a massive build-up of military forces by the aptly dubbed Far Eastern Empire. If it wished to contest the United States of Vinland's dominance of the pacific, it would need Imperial raw materials. Alliances could only get a country so far in the world.
For those keeping track the scale of loss was truly incomprehensible. The ailing Empire's vast manpower reserves were depleted, and most of its veteran divisions were well below fighting strength. None were fit to be conducting offensive actions which meant green conscripts were needed to fill the gaps. Young boys who had never even held a rifle, nor seen a trench.
To make matters even worse, Montgomery's security forces were under threat from an old enemy. One they had struggled with since he seized power from his mentor, the Darcsen Liberation Movement, or just DLM. After several years of being in retreat, they emerged from the forests and mountains to launch raids across the Eastern territories once again.
It must have seemed truly ironic from an outsider's perspective. Here seated comfortably at the heart of power in Schwartzgrad, sat the man who at one point endorsed the war with a fervor that caused even the most fanatical devotees to self-reflect. Now that very same man's position was the exact opposite. There would be no final victory. No valiant reunification of the European continent underneath the Imperial eagle. What those looking in could not see was the grief that was worn heavily upon Montgomery's shoulders. For now, despite his objections, he would be forced to leave the shadows and take center stage. He would find no sympathy from those who set their sights upon him. Such was the cruel machination of fate.
Muttering under his breath, he removed his glasses and rubbed his sore eyes. Bloodshot, and bleary orbs pressed against an aged skull. Montgomery yawned and then reached over for a cup of cold black tea. It was in a sense, a lingering vestige of the homeland he abandoned once an opportunity to do so presented itself. A heart of steel was a useful tool for someone in his line of work but Edinburgh was still once his home, and one Montgomery thought of sympathetically.
Coast to coast, Europe was a continent of brothers now trapped in an industrial slaughterhouse. The stage was set for a calamity of that he had no doubt. And through said calamity, there would be a great awakening. If only Captain Salvio understood what kind of demon he brought into the Empire's ranks that fateful year on the North Sea.
Or maybe, he was not bothered by the success of his former crewmate. Since Montgomery's station did mean the reign of terror that gripped the Imperial spirit rarely fell on those he admired. Rarely.
With a sip of tea, Montgomery was instantly rejuvenated and turned his attention back to the reports on his desk. The one from Karl was the most important as Operation Assam represented the first shot of a new world that was to be born. Written with the haggard pen of a paternal soul, the Lord Commissar could not help but appreciate his right hand's blunt documentation of Kriegtotcher's recent achievements.
Devoted soldiers of the Empire were a dying breed, so Montgomery was glad to look past Karl's fatherly projections onto X-0's abortions of science. Who were praised for their combat skills in a handwritten note, however as a result of their adjustments they were unstable commanders. Which greatly impacted their ability to lead in the field. Often they would devolve into nonsensical quarreling, or go so far as to physically maim soldiers under their command. More than once Karl was forced to intervene. Here, he noted that their immediate reactions to being reprimanded were akin to abused animals. Nikola and Chiara often retreated instantly, even if they gnashed their fangs.
Despite this, he believed they were learning, if slowly. Good news to Montgomery who expected stringent unity among those within his flock. One was no greater than the whole, in the field. He shut the folder and sighed as he leaned back into his chair. It was almost a tragedy that both girls' personnel files were already stamped with the ominous word, obsolete. A word that served many purposes: denoting treasonous plotters, wreckers, criminals, and those who were no longer needed within Imperial society.
As such, much to Karl's objections, Nikola and Chiara were already slated for early retirement after their mission concluded. Ever since Commissar Ulyana, the newest member of the ruling inner circle, proposed Doctor Belgar might have managed to defect into the arms of the United States. Montgomery was determined to tie up any possible loose ends, motivated by a deep-rooted hatred for his old rival.
Besides the former lieutenants, the only other survivor of Montgomery's purge was not a soldier but rather the submarine which X-0 used as a home base. By the suggestion of Saeoth, who served as the phantasmic, valkyrurian whisper in his ear, it was placed under the command of Commissar Manfred and sent beneath the waves Westward. She sought a piece of a mythical artifact that was theorized could change the course of the war. Whether that was true, only she knew.
Satisfied by the report, Montgomery shut it and pushed the folder aside. There was mundane work that required his attention. While most found signing execution orders dull, he found it most therapeutic. A duty was a duty. And here, Montgomery was the sole arbiter of justice. Those who could still be useful would be spared, and those who could not be were obsolete.
Only one fate awaited an obsolete man. A bullet. Even the privileges of the class did not dare to enter the basement beneath the headquarters. At some point fatigue finally reached him, and Montgomery slumped forward onto his desk. His glasses slid down the bridge of his nose and nearly flew into the air when a clink of a fresh cup of tea, near his head, jolted him awake.
Dazed, he looked over to see Commissar Ulyana von Wolzogen, who offered a soft smile allaying his paranoia about the drink. He reached for the perfumy beverage. "Dear you didn't have to ..."
"Yes, I did. I won't have you working yourself into an early grave," Ulyana scolded, brushing a lock of brown hair out of her face. When combined with her large, dark brown eyes she was a refined beauty an unfortunate quality that often resulted in harassment by ill-informed suitors. "Oh and I prepared this just like you showed me. So I better not here any complaints from you, sir."
"How many times must I tell you, Monty is fine," Montgomery said. He did appreciate her headstrongedness. It was the quality that stood out most to him when they first met. A young woman at the time, she felt passionate that she had something to offer her motherland, beyond that of a life of politically beneficial marriages.
Quite an admirable youth in the eyes of Montgomery. Taking a sip of the fresh, piping-hot liquid, he sighed pleased. "Marvelous. Absolutely marvelous. You've followed my instructions to the letter."
High praise from a man who took his teas seriously and Ulyana could not help but bashfully look away. "Well ... I did have a patient teacher." Unlike the other members of the inner circle, her admiration of their Lord Commissar stemmed a the view of him as a paternal figure rather than someone draped in myth.
She strove the personify the ideals he outlined for all Imperial citizens regardless of gender. But unlike the often crass Klara, Ulyana took pride in her femininity which allowed her to show that even women could serve the motherland. To such an end she preferred to wear a knee-length skirt and stockings underneath along with a pair of heels. Montgomery held much pride in her refined attitude. With a nudge of his glasses, he asked, "Anything to report?"
"Commissar Kamal has sent an update regarding the situation on the Eastern Border," She replied. "Bad news. As usual."
His pessimism was wearing off on her. He exhaled loudly, swirling his tea. "Guess its to be expected. The Far Easterners have seen us stumble, and don't want to be left out ... Opportunistic barbarians."
While he remained seated, Ulyana walked over to the window. Staring out over the military district she put both hands behind her back. "I went ahead and told Kamal to prepare for the worst. He intends to form several militia brigades to supplement the garrison, though without proper support it won't do much to stem the tide."
Pleased by her quick thinking Montgomery nodded. "Good. That is the best we can do at present, with Klara busy dealing with our Darcsen friends." Studying the wisps of steam climbing into the air with fascination he continued. "He knows what will be necessary when the time comes."
Ensuring invading armies would be forced to march across barren swaths of land was an ingrained Imperial defensive strategy. Though not one he liked to endorse, as it tended to cost the Empire as much as the enemy.
"Fortunately there may be a silver lining," Ulyana said keeping her detached demeanor in place when discussing business. "It would seem at least, that the Far Eastern Empire is growing increasingly hostile to the United States' encroachment into the Pacific."
Montgomery took a noisy sip, letting his drink settle on his tongue before swallowing. "It won't matter ... Their scouts are already probing our undermanned positions. The logical choice is to attack us then pivot West."
Ulyana cracked a grin, stifling a laugh. "Better be careful, sir. You are starting to sound like a defeatist."
"Again I will remind you, to not be so formal." Montgomery lightly scolded wagging his finger. "You are making me feel old."
Turning to face him, she gave a sarcastic curtsy. "My apologies esteemed Lord Commissar of Schwartzgrad, from hence forth I will call you Monty. Like Varrick use to."
Montgomery didn't laugh, instead, he picked up elsewhere in their conversation. "It is hard to not be a defeatist. The Western hordes are throwing themselves at us mercilessly. Not to mention his majesty saw fit to tie up valuable divisions trying to pacify Gallia." He did not say it aloud but he was convinced internal wreckers hidden within the Nobility were now working tirelessly to destroy the war effort.
While he was a patriot, the Lord Commissar had raised objections to committing so many good soldiers to invade the Empire's neighbor and former subject, the duchy of Gallia. For Montgomery was a nationalist, and he recognized the strength in unity the Gallian people wielded against their enemies. Making reintegration a delusional fantasy of men who lived in the past.
"Perhaps the Valkyrur will descend again from above to to save us." Ulyana snickered having reviewed reports from agents operating within the United States. The democracy's arsenal far outweighed the Empire's own by a staggering degree.
The joke finally caused Montgomery to give a short, unnatural laugh. "Right of course because our Valkyria have been so useful when deployed." He scoffed disgustedly. "Volatile tools are volatile by their nature. Only a blind fool would put their trust in saviors."
Owing to lengthy debates had with Saeoth over how to best handle her archaic race, he had reached a conclusion few outside his Commissariat were prepared to accept. That the Valkyur and their descendants were impediments to Europe's future. Therefore were unfit to continue to exist, much like their counterpart the Darcsen.
"True enough. Too many are desperate to push responsibility onto others." She muttered echoing his own attitude toward command. A good leader stands with his men, not behind them. "It is most fortunate that we are have a plan in drawn up to save our motherland. Otherwise she would be alone."
"Perhaps but I must admit it is also unfortunate that we have been abandoned by our supposed masters." Montgomery lamented glumly. It was no secret he was grieved by the present state of his adoptive motherland.
Attempting to lighten the mood, Ulyana revealed a letter that was in her pocket. "Well most of them ..." She tittered as he took note of the ruling family's seal.
Using a letter opener to cut it open, Montgomery skimmed the contents frowning. The third wife of the Emperor and his silent patron was cordially inviting him to a garden party that evening. Annoyed he crumpled it up grumbling. "Damn woman. Why must she invite me to these utterly inane distractions?"
"To remind you that our supposed masters are very interested in our work." Ulyana teased, amused by his reaction. "A shame Commissar Ludwig isn't available to escort you."
Totally oblivious to her implication, Montgomery scratched his cheek with his thumb. "It certainly is. His ability to soothe fragile egos is nothing short of incredible." A thought occurred to him and his pale blue eyes lit up. "You shall attend with me."
She recoiled at the prospect, raising her arm defensively. "I don't think I am any better for fragile egos." Having chosen to abandon her womanly duties to her class, Ulyana was not keen on having to put on a proper performance again.
"My dear it doesn't matter. You're adept at navigating their obfuscated language." Montgomery responded, the corner of his mouth quirking into a small smile. While she objected his praise caused her to stand just a little straighter. Turning on the charm he asked. "Would you offer me the kindness of being my escort to this evening's distraction? You could meet the Empress herself."
"Of course, Lord Commissar. I would be delighted to escort you," she said, offering a half-smirk and a small curtsy. She excused herself and, to Montgomery's annoyance, another man pushed into his office as she left. He was a large balding toad of a man, finely robed like most of the nobility, and his double chin confirmed he ate well.
"Lord Commissar York! I must speak with you!" the man bellowed. Montgomery looked at the nobleman blankly, unable to place his face. Though, he was more concerned about finishing his cup of tea.
"And you are?" Montgomery asked his tone dripping with disdain. The man's eyes seemed to pop out of his skull in rage.
He slammed his fist on the desk and shouted, "Duke Bergmann! Your ghouls arrested my son for treason!" He banged his fist a few more times on the table for good measure. Montgomery stared at the place where they connected, disturbing his lamp.
"My Commissars have arrested a many men's sons. Need I remind you there is a war on," he said, sitting down again. He pulled a stack of folders in front of him. "A few hundred were arrested this month alone. What is his name?" He figured it would be amusing to humor the enraged toad.
"Careful you contemptible weasel. You had no right," the Duke snarled, clearly caring little for the authority of the Commissariat. Like many noblemen, he was firmly in the position that an office controlled by a man of common birth was unfit to dictate the law to the aristocracy. When Montgomery's only response was to wave the folders, the duke sighed, "Torben Bergmann."
Montgomery flipped through the numerous papers. Some were handwritten, and some were typed with formatting fitting an official document. One or two only had a name and nothing else. Klara was a woman of little patience when it came to processing the obsolete. Finally, after some difficulty, he managed to find what he assumed to be the documentation of Torben Bergmann's execution. "Your son was investigated and found guilty on charges of ... let's see here. Destruction of war assets, selling strategic information to the Gallian nation, and a failure of will." He offered the page in question as proof, a blood-smeared signature at the bottom.
The Duke looked at the paper and slowly went pale, "You monster. You had no evidence."
"Actually, a confession of guilt is all the evidence I need." Montgomery patted the pile of folders. "Let me clear. I do not care who you are or who your relations are. Harm our Empire's ability to fight and you have made yourself obsolete." He cocked his head with cold eyes fixed on the toad's face. "Your question has been answered, I suggest you leave."
Unwilling to heed the Lord Commissar's warning and motivated by grief, Bergman started to rant and rave, kicking Montgomery's desk. "You rat! You foreign upstart! I will have your head!" He shouted until he was blue in the face and only finally stopped to catch his breath.
Unbothered, the Lord Commissar had reached into another desk drawer and pulled out a folder on the nobleman himself. Being reminded of his heritage was always sure to irritate the Lord Commissar. Flipping through it dramatically, he said flippantly, "Unfortunate, truthfully. Your family was always held in high regard by his majesty."
Duke Bergmann's face suddenly changed. He had dropped his aggressive tone and said, "What are you implying?"
"That a more thorough investigation into your family will tragically now be required," Montgomery said with an unsettling smirk. He continued to peer at the Duke, whose hands started to tremble as it became clear the Lord Commissar's intent. "I trust you will cooperate to the fullest extent with Commissar Volker when he arrives."
The Duke hastily exited without a word, and Montgomery found himself alone again. He looked over at the haphazardly organized stack of files on the men currently awaiting their fate. A slightly ajar one caught the Lord Commissar's attention, and he reached over to tug it out of the haphazard pile. Opening it, Montgomery put a hand on his chin.
Klaus Walz. Was the name on the page. The scapegoat for the failure to protect the Imperial capital from Operation Cygnus. Someone had to be blamed since the one truly responsible had vanished without a trace. The charges were simple: A failure of will at Siegval, per the confession of men of X-0 aiding the enemy, and most egregious of all though was the theft of a valuable war asset. What needed to be done was obvious. So without hesitating further, Montgomery stamped the top of the page, obsolete, and tossed it onto the nearby stack of individuals who needed to confess to their crimes.
The Nord Republic was situated in the Northernmost portion of the Empire, a region well known for its unpleasant, harsh winters. The snow fell near-constantly, and for a brief period during the year, the sun would disappear from the sky. During the spring, these frigid conditions would temporarily give way to frequent rains, which would turn the frozen landscape into a difficult-to-traverse marshland. Tanks and trucks would regularly become bogged down, forcing crews to abandon them. The initial invasion of the republic had cost the Empire dearly; the behemoth was forced to rely on its superior manpower to simply overrun well-entrenched positions. Later in the second war, X-0 wound up taking advantage of the Magnus, using the submarine to travel along the coastline.
The brigade of Kriegstotcher was formed partially with the inhospitable nature of the region in mind. As the Commissariat technically had no military functionality, Montgomery opted to handpick men from various other parts of the army, focusing on soldiers who had fought in similar environments.
Given that they had fought on the Crystal Sea, and had been subjected to adjustments to increase their shared lethality. Nikola and Chiara were the ideal tools to oversee the operation in such an extreme region. However, without continued adjustments, or Belgar's medicine, both girls felt increasingly alien in their own bodies. A feeling exacerbated by a slower-than-normal thaw, meaning the region remained blanketed with snow.
It was still cold enough that even Karl was unwilling to part from the wool blanket that seemed permanently fused to his uniform. Occasionally he would mumble about needing a vacation, somewhere nice, like the Southern duchies of the Empire. Only Gunther, a Nord, was unbothered by the weather. Often he would laugh about how it was a rather mild winter and would soon end.
Seated near the furnace located in the headquarters, Karl adjusted his numerous blankets, refusing to acknowledge the creeping chill clawing its way into the small cabin. He and Nikola had spent the entire early morning reviewing the plan to make contact with the loyalist. Another coin toss resulted in Chiara being forced outside, despite objecting fervently, to choose three soldiers who would assist them. She shrieked, and banged on the door in vain but ultimately stormed off on her quest. A broad map was situated on the table in the middle of the small room. Two cups of steaming cups of coffee sat on either end of the square table; both Karl and Nikola nursed them slowly to avoid having to brave the cold for more.
Keeping her eyes on the map, Nikola studied the troop counters closely. Her thoughts were scattered as the fear of failing to live up to the expectations of the Lord Commissar weighed heavily on her. She did everything possible to maintain a blank facade, hoping to conceal her misery. Troubled the girl had not slept well since arriving, something about being back in the same region was already dragging forth troublesome memories of X-0.
"This is your mission. Tell me what you think." Karl said, having been waiting patiently for her to react. He was exhausted, a fact reinforced by his lethargic movements and bloodshot eyes. Like many in the Commissariat, he regularly abused stimulants, a compound quite similar to what Nikola and Chiara considered a medicine, to keep pace with the demands of the job.
"Does it matter what I think?" Nikola asked softly, not used to a commander who expected input from his subordinates. When he nodded, she touched her beret uncertain what to say. Jumping straight to the point she mused. "These loyalist. Their forces are recruited from the local population, during our first deployment the Nords were hardly keen to assist X-0. How do we know they are dependable now?"
Karl shifted, and brought out a cigarette. Lighting it he spoke. "Otto Halvard is the officer now charge of the garrison. During the start of the war he served as a Major General." He trailed off as she studied his face closely. "There was some unpleasantness ... But he remains a good Imperial regardless."
Tapping the table Nikola asked, "And what of this ... Casper Ulf?"
"Captain Ulf is unorthodox to say the least." Karl answered rubbing his beard thoughtfully. "A lot of his people, consider him a war hero. The greatest warrior the North has produced. His mauraders distguished themselves during the fighting for Ostend ... He was one leave when this insurrection began."
Nikola mulled over the information. "I see. What kind of equipment does the enemy have at their disposal?"
Karl blew smoke through his nose. "Mostly stockpiled small arms and armor that was contained in the Lowerholm armory. Though an observation balloon did confirm the presence of tanks, and a handful of heavy howitzers. Remains to be seen if they can utilize them effectively in battle."
Early skirmishes had ended inconclusively with neither army making meaningful gains. The Loyalists were in the process of reorganizing their forces, while the republicans were on the defensive and could utilize the natural landscape to their benefit.
Nikola hummed, crossing her arms. She gave the map one last look over and nodded. "It is no problem. We can handle a rag tag group of rebels."
"I would hope so." Karl said somewhat cynically. It was true though. If the operation went smoothly then he would not ever have to return to the Nordic homeland. The sound of the door creaking open, accompanied by howling wind caused him to look over.
Chiara entered a tuff or two of snow on her red beret and shoulders. She proceeded to shake like a dog sending flying everywhere exclaiming. "You both suck!" A stream of snot was running down from her right nostril, and she sniffed loudly. When Nikola snickered at her suffering, she glared. "Want to say something!?"
"Come on you are not that wimpy, Chiara." Nikola chided, her arrogance beyond insufferable.
"Bite me." Chiara spat back beelining for the furnace, in the corner of the room. She held her hands in front of it, sighing with relief. "Please ... I do not want frostbite again."
Karl waited and let her bask in the warmth for a time, then wearing a kindly smile stood. "Have you chosen who to take for the beginning of phase one?"
She was distracted massaging her arms until one of his many blankets was placed gently over her shoulders getting Chiara's attention. "Wha-?" She flinched, attempting to pull away surprised by the gesture.
"I tend to avoid letting agents under my command freeze to death. The paperwork is exhaustive." Karl explained dryly, it being unclear if he was joking, as he returned to his seat.
Chiara adjusted the warm cloth. "Uh ... Thanks," she mumbled awkwardly. Her eyebrow twitched slightly as she wonder if he was pitying her. When feeling returned to her extremities she made her way to the map. "Did not need to. Fedor, Sorina, and Gunther volunteered." Karl did not react but was troubled by Sorina's injection of herself into the mission.
"Ugh ... Why the engineer?" Nikola grumbled harshly, as her brow furrowed. She could respect Sorina's uncanny ability to remain hidden even in plain sight. Fedor's downright anger at everyone around him. But Gunther? The man who continually laughed off any attempt at her invoking authority over him? Hardly. He was obnoxious and had it not been for Karl's presence she would have opted for a more stringent punishment.
Chiara looked down at her boot embarrassed. "He would not let me into the tent until I agreed to take him along." She promptly sneezed again, her whole face feeling swollen. "Why this ..." She mumbled having not gotten used to feeling under the weather.
"Are you sick?" Karl asked though he could already tell she was given her condition.
Quick to capitalize on her partner's misfortunate, Nikola interjected. "Maybe Chiara should stay in the infirmary." She snicked cruelly. "Not like she would be any good in the field."
"Shut up! I am twice the soldier you ever were!" Chiara shouted in response, kicking the table leg and causing the unit counters to move. It was a funny scene, considering the small girl was only a foot taller than the wooden table. She raised a fist resolutely. "I am fine! Just let me at them!"
Nikola remained hostile, however. "Sneeze on the mission, and I will stick your face into the snow."
"Try it. You will freeze tonight when I keep my blanket." Chiara answered equally harshly, and an argument soon broke out.
Karl sat letting them scream at each other, trying to glean useful information about their experiences from the discord. When Nikola leaped toward her partner, grabbing hold of her collar and ready to punch he cleared his throat. "Enough, you two." They froze recognizing his serious tone, slowly turning to face him. "You are dismissed. Be ready to work as a team tomorrow morning 0200 hours."