INCIDENT REPORT

DATE

JULY 1923

LOCATION

PATROL W14-3

UNIT

107th Assault Mage Company

3rd Platoon

IDENTIFICATION

Mouse

EVALUATOR

Colonel U. Effanein

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Assessment is written with testimony from Computation Jewel film and witness reports from ground and aerial units alike.

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Incident occurred on date of commencement of hostilities between the State and the Francois Republic.

Standard Patrol in progress by Imperial instruction on border area within what was then Imperial territory.

Commander of said Platoon was Magic Second Lieutenant F. Bermanst.

Platoon members consisted of Magic Corporal G. Klauntein, Magic Corporal E. Lorgren, and Magic Private C. Unten.

At XX: XX, Command Posts across border region lost contact with most aerial units due to premeditated use of Communication interference.

Francois aerial units conducted targeted shock attacks against Imperial patrols within airspace to secure aerial superiority, while ground units of the Republics forces attacked Imperial land with extreme speed.

Unit 'Mouse' was one of such affected elements.

At XX: XX, Magic Lieutenant F. Bermanst attempted to contact CP, and perceived manual magic interference. Enemy attack soon commenced by a Company of enemy mages.

Due to the fact that the platoon was caught unaware in a combat situation, a lack of reaction caused the death of Magic Corporal G. Klauntein, who saved the life of Magic Lieutenant F. Bermanst.

[Magic Corporal G. Klauntein is recorded for posthumous award for his selfless actions]

Magic Lieutenant F. Bermanst quickly took control of the situation. Deceit was given to enemy units in the form of a false statement of upcoming reinforcements, and immediate illusions to convey legitimacy. Magic communication was made between Lieutenant F. Bermanst and his unit, ordering the two remaining soldiers under his command to retreat out of the interference area and contact headquarters.

Magic Corporal E. Lorgren and Magic Private C. Unten obliged and made standard retreat procedures while Magic Lieutenant F. Bermanst proceeded to engage in combat.

After careful review of materials obtained from the recovered Type 13 Standard Operation Orb, it has been noted that Magic Lieutenant F. Bermanst now bears the following military record:

3 Confirmed Kills.

1 Unconfirmed Kill.

2 Collaterals.

Magic Lieutenant F. Bermanst, despite countless wounds in battle, was able to hold off an entire enemy mage Company by their lonesome, disabling half of the combat power held by the aerial unit, and forcing their retreat despite suffering from mana deprivation. Magic Lieutenant F. Bermanst was then able to make their way Eastward back to recognized territory, held only by willpower and barely operating equipment. A period of aimless flight and lack of reaction to allied communications followed with their collapse, where they fell within friendly territory and were hence recovered by a mechanized infantry unit.

Magic Lieutenant F. Bermanst has made a remarkable achievement over the skies of Patrol Line West 14-3, and subsequent awards and rewards should follow in recognition of the actions that occurred on the XXth of July 1923.

Request for immediate appraisal of personnel corps for Incident case WC 73-1.

May God bless the Empire.

SIGNATORY

Unein Effanein


IMPERIAL ARMY WESTERN THEATER

WESTERN MILITARY GARRISON NINE

AUGUST 1923

The mirror before me showed a short young boy in Imperial uniform staring me down. Dull blonde hair, somewhat shallowed cheeks, and blank green eyes, like jewels.

Well, one eye actually.

A patch covered my left eye, tightly clutching to my head as a line was made through the tufts of my hair. I had completely lost vision in my left eye. During the battle that had happened weeks ago, my goggles had fractured under the pressure of the skirmish and caused glass to puncture it. Unfortunately, I had neither noticed nor had time to pay attention to the life changing incident, which later led to irreversible damages to my iris. By the time I was recovered my eye was deemed irreparable and promptly discarded. Now in its place is a black eyepatch, covering the entire pit in darkness.

I really wish that would have been the only permanent damage that occurred, but the lump of metal I now call half my leg states otherwise. My right foot had unfortunately been shot off during the last moments of combat with the retreating Francois mages. Despite being able to make my way back to Imperial land, I was told later by the doctors that I was on my last legs, literally and figuratively. Apparently, it was as if a gust of wind could have blown my soul away. My right foot and a good amount above it had disappeared and were unusable, rendering it cauterized within minutes of my arrival to the Garrison Hospital. My life was saved, but I feel quite empty.

Its only once you lose something that you start to appreciate it. Klauntein and all of his idiocy, the liberty of free movement without being held back, full vision to see all the world with no hindrances. My senses seem to have been enhanced due to missing the bulk of my sight, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to get used to the complete lack of movement in my left socket. I don't know if I'll ever become used to undoing a metal leg every night to go to sleep, only to see a bandaged stump in the place of what used to be a scrawny yet fully functional limb. I don't know if I'll ever be able to get close to my subordinates again, and risk having the same thing happen once more because of my gross incompetence.

Part of me hoped that I would be discharged. That they would honorably dismiss me from service on account of my injuries, especially so that I'm a child. But it seems that I neglected to remember that a Mage does not need legs to fly, and my 'dominant' eye will do for aiming. In the current situation, where the Western Front has now already turned into free for all that grinds away reservists by the hour, all hands are beginning to be called on deck. That includes the 'lightly' disabled. As long as I can still pick up a rifle and shoot, then I can still fight. If the medal that clamps onto my waist isn't such a symbol of the heartless Imperial meritocracy, then I do not know what else could count for it.

The Superior Combat Award.

The award had what resembled a small Cross behind its main medallion, Germanic labelled all across its white rims, coated black. The medal itself held six stars, one at the top, two lining the sides, and the other three in an arrow pointing down at the bottom. Two obvious rifle outlines crossed in the middle behind the obvious shape of a bullet aiming upwards, the entire circle being bordered with a distinct red color with a glossy metallic shine. Though not as distinguished in its merit as the Silver Wings Assault Badge, it is still quite sizeable in terms of regard. I had found that those who experienced near death situations in combat and came out with accomplishment beyond the call of duty bore the medal with great honor. However, I additionally learned with research that winners of this medal were never unscathed and were mostly disabled in some shape or way.

Essentially, I had joined the ranks of the illustrious crippled soldiers, superb men and women lacking both sanity and limbs. The only difference between me and them was that most of them were able to be honorably discharged, while I could still fly even missing an eye and a leg.

What a sick joke.

'I am only twelve! years! old! Couldn't you at least show some pity!?' I would shout out if the damage hadn't already been done. I had 'healed' according to the medical professionals here after four weeks of getting accustomed to my new circumstances. The tests done had shown that though my combat and maneuvering abilities had taken a blow, I was still in a good enough condition to fire my weapon and comb through the clouds. Even then, I hoped that I might have even entered the same situation as Tanya, who became a propaganda symbol for her heroism and go behind lines, even if it were to that damned Dr. Schugel.

Reality, however, felt the need to kick me while I was down. My delusions were broken by the fact that neither Imperial citizens nor enemy nations would take kindly to what would essentially be the flaunting that a child was sent into war and permanently damaged. My superiors found themselves in a dilemma when it came to me, for discharging me on account of brutal injuries could still possibly be used against the Empire by hostile nations and cause disgust, thus 'forcing' them to continue using me for combat tasks, of which I had shown a modicum of skill in, and still do despite my baggage.

Looking down at my right leg, I could barely see any difference. My green trousers slacked below my knees were interrupted by the polished boots glued to my feet. No one without prior knowledge would know of the metal prothesis made to the highest Imperial standards in technology attached to my leg. Through magical healing and the wonders of Imperial healthcare and rehabilitation, even I would have forgotten such a fact if it weren't for the remaining limp due to the new flaws in my balance, the constant discomfort, and the fact that I see it in all its glory every morning and night.

I reached my hand down and simply knocked twice, feeling the hard surface within my clothing and hearing the dull sound. I would have to live with this for the rest of my life. Just the thought of this caused me to wince from pain in a limb that no longer belonged and one that I couldn't soothe.

I'm so tired.

The paper stating my redeployment to the newfound Western front lays on the bedstand beside me, a testament to the ever-changing battlefield in the past few weeks after our initial defeats in the surprise attack. I can't help but feel a pang of guilt for the deaths despite the fact that my knowledge really would have had no impact whatsoever with my position in the military at the time. I simply would have been seen as an insane and attention seeking child. Even when it came true in the end, what would I say then? Sure, I wouldn't be an idiot fearmonger anymore, but I would surely become a test subject and be exposed to countless interrogations. There is no need to blame myself, but that shame still stays alive despite rational thought.

Sometimes I wished I was a pragmatic sociopath like Tanya, but immediately remember her in the anime. Callous, uncaring, and honestly terrifying to an extent. I hope she is more like the person I witnessed in the novels I could read, or at least in the manga. They seemed more human in those mediums at least, less like a machine. Time will only tell though, as I have a feeling she is still dealing with the Type 95 and hasn't yet been deployed along with the rest of the soldiers in the region. It shouldn't be long however before I find myself before her, leaving me only to figure out how to get acquainted with such a logical person in the first place.

I guess I will cross that bridge when I get there. Placing the hat upon my head, I stare on blankly at the unrecognizable boy in the mirror. A sigh erupts from my mouth without care, as I realize the dire straits I have found myself in. I place my documents in a leather bag, hoisting it upon my left shoulder, and taking one last glance at the room that has accompanied me for the past few weeks on my journey to recovery. This may very well be the last place I call a home and see comfort in for a while. Or maybe even the last place in general.

Such a fleeting thought was the last to follow me as I started my gait towards the door, a slight stagger to the right in my movement being some of the only notice of my recent disability. The door opened with such a creak, and closed with its unbearable groan, leaving the room empty and dull, and engulfing it within an unbearable silence.

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Silence that was soon interrupted by the tick of a clock.

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Which swung slow.

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Like the turnings of fate.


AN:

Heyo, a cool little exam is coming up so this'll probably be the last drop for a bit so I can study. I am actually thinking of going back and rewriting and adding more prior chapters to add more character development and otherwise flesh out my writing of which I have gotten dissatisfied with after some helpful criticism from peers. I have also noticed that I accidentally made Franz into a Mary sue, which is the reason for the permanent injuries and such. I will try to curb this, and any rewriting will be attributed to those changes, for I don't want my first OC to bear that name despite the funny little fandom I find myself writing for being completely full of them. I have also been accepted to AOO so I will probably be moving the fanfiction over there after I get my bearings and feel that my writing is acceptable enough to see the public eye again, though that doesn't mean that I will stop posting here. Overall, I need to research, write, and research some more with the corner I inadvertently wrote myself into with everything I've added, but if that isn't learning, I don't know what is! Thanks to the people who have followed and favorited, for it lets me know that I'm doing at least something right. Sorry if anyone is disappointed with such news, but I'll try to get back soon, and I hope I'll be writing better than the droning I've been putting ya'll into here! Thanks again, and see ya!