Preparations were well underway for the coming offensive when Kriegstotcher arrived at the Loyalists' forward encampment. A set of reclaimed trenches, once built to stave off Imperial invasion, now converted to serve as a launch ground for a new one. With the thaw setting in, muddy quagmires made it difficult for tanks and trucks while also creating a new vulnerable to naval landing from the Crystal Sea.

Having disembarked from their transport, Nikola watched as a truck trundled by, carrying several men in its bed. She felt calm. A sensation which was dashed when Chiara, having mis-stepped, found she had sunk into a patch of mud. Now sinking up to her knee, she exclaimed, "Eugh!" Her temper flared, both fists flailed in the air. "I hate this country!"

Gunther laughed, and before she could voice anymore protests, wrapped an arm around her waist. Effortlessly, he pulled her from the muck like a cat left out in the rain. "No reason to be rude, boss. Wait until you get to see this place in bloom."

Chiara, despising the sensation of being touched by another, went limp. Her arms flopped by her side and she whispered, "Please put me down."

"Oops. My bad." Gunther laughed, setting her down on both feet. "Why are you lookin—"

He found himself on the defensive when Chiara roared. "Who said you could touch me?" A flurry of punches in his direction followed, as, enraged, she tackled him to the ground. Their struggle legendary and amusing enough for Nikola to smile, ever so faintly. Chiara was getting soft; her blows careful to avoid any serious wounds.

"Your partner seems to have developed a fondness for our engineer." Sorina's raspy voice settled itself right inside Nikola's ear, causing her to leap away, startled.

Quick to present a cold front of calm, Nikola frowned, crossing her arms. "Chiara was born an idiot. So it makes sense she'd be drawn to another idiot."

"No reason to be so harsh, Miss Graf. You will be eager to have allies when the inferno to come consumes the Imperial heartland."

"Spare me the prophecies."

"No prophecy. What you stand before…" Sorina gestured to the encampment abuzz with life around them. "Is a future long in the making. These Loyalists have thrown in their lot with a Lord. It remains to be seen if they honor their agreement."

Nikola heaved a sigh of frustration. "Do you have to speak so cryptically?" Around them, the rest of Kriegstotcher stood at attention, an organized black mass at odds with the chaotic scene of a camp readying for war. Her eyes were drawn to two flags fluttering atop a metal pole planted a few yards ahead of her. The first was a faded and bleached Imperial eagle. Its cloth showing the scars of plenty of battles. Below, it whipped a second. This one depicted a cracked skull crusty with barnacles, being held up by a long squid's tentacle; unknown to her, the imagery invoked an old Nord sea legend of a great monster that lurked in the depths of the ocean. In Latin, at the base of the flag, read the words: 1st Imperial Marauders. As merciless as a wave.

Siegward joined her. "You might want to do something about that." He pointed back at Chiara, whose jaw was firmly latched on Gunther's arm, causing him much distress.

Nikola ignored the spectacle playing out and shrugged disinterestedly. "It's not hurting anyone important. Chiara needs to blow off steam, otherwise the briefing will be very… difficult."

"Hmm, good point."

Fedor and Gottfried approached. The former a dull shade of worry, with his hands clasped together. "Is it true? Captain Ulf still practices the pagan rituals?

Nikola placed a hand on her hip. "How am I supposed to know?"

Sorina had a different answer. Ruthless in her assessment of Yggdism, her ruby eyes glowed with ill intention. "Pagan beliefs? They are the same sagas your feckless church rewrote to fabricate a history."

"Different conclusions, you witch." Fedor stuck a finger in her face. He looked ready for a fight. "They Valkyrur were the saviors of Europe. The church merely enshrined their role."

To this, Sorina had a different answer. Raising her voice, she cackled. "Saviors!? They were nothing of the sort!" She then turned to everyone. "There is but one savior of Europe! Our hallowed Lord of Crows! He who gave all of you wretched fools something no one else would! A chance at redemption in his eyes!" Her sickly disposition vanished and in its place stood a preacher alive with fiery passion. "So remember! When you say a prayer at your bunk! You are praying to him!"

Nikola shivered. Chiara stopped assaulting Gunther, the two staring at Sorina in an unnerved silence. Siegward intervened, grabbing Fedor before he could start a fight. "That is quite enough. Leave it alone."

"He's right, another word and I'll let Chiara punish you," Nikola said, remembering her command. She gave a nod to her partner, making it clear it was time to lead.

Gottfried rubbed the top of his head. "Never a dull moment."

Having heard the common, Captain Ulf threw open the flaps of the command tent nearest to them. The giant of a man grinned ear to ear as he approached. His battle regalia clinking with each incredible size, caused Chiara to snicker. "Hey, Gunther. Aren't you small for a Nord?"

"You are one to ask," Gunther said, adjusting his cap. Nikola gravitated to the pair of them without thinking but remained at the front of Kriegstotcher.

Sorina, though, was fascinated by the white wolf skin which adorned Ulf's head. "Ah! The stories are true. He is the slayer of the North's last great wolf." She lowered her voice. "A Lord of the North. It has been too long."

Compared to Ulf's legendary acclaim, the stern yet stubby Otto followed behind his commander, appearing completely unimpressive in his steel Imperial armor. The loyalist strategist could have been mistaken for a common soldier had it not been for his well-maintained blonde mustache and astute gaze.

Nikola and Chiara both straightened up and came forward as Ulf held out a large hand toward them both. "Ah! The God of War's emissaries have finally arrived. I must say, it is good to see my rescuers again."

Neither girl understood his strange manner of speech and stared at the outstretch hand. Nikola looked up. "Captain Ulf. Are your men ready?"

He retracted his large hand, unbothered by her muted nature. "But of course, little one. My men are the loyal sons of the North! The call of battle is one we all are prepared to answer, even it brings us to our homeland."

"That is good to hear, Captain," Siegward spoke up, pulling a small envelope out of his pocket. He offered it to the two Nords. "Lord Commissar York offers his sincere thanks and a full pardon."

Nikola and Chiara noticed it was stamped with a seal they did not recognize. Otto took it and slid it into his pocket. "Retirement papers. This will by my last campaign," He explained.

The two girls exchanged uneasy glances, feeling they were intentionally kept out of the loop for reasons alien to them. Ulf held out a hand to the group before him. "Let us begin. There is no time to waste."


The tent was packed with bodies. Soldiers adorned in a myriad of uniforms stood side by side, waiting for the plan of attack to be laid out. They faced three maps which depicted the topography of the region and were marked with counters for the position of the loyalist troops. Gunther adjusted his collar, gulped, then attempted to leave. Chiara stopped him short. "Don't tell me you are getting cold feet."

"My feet are always cold. That is why I wear two pairs of socks," Gunther replied, aiming to make a fast exit when no one would notice.

Fedor, also unnerved by being around so many potential heathens, lingered as well. Nikola and Chiara joined the other commanders standing at the table with a fourth map laid across it. Otto cleared his throat, giving a moment for quiet, then tapped his finger on the city of Varlstad. A large city on the far coast of the Nord Republic. Its primary export being ragnite. "The Blue rose established its new provisional government here. They've already announced a policy of universal conscription; this war is going to be a fight to the end. "

Ulf nodded. "There are also the volunteer forces. It seems the Feds don't want to open a new front." He indicated to the neighboring state of Bergvin. "Our scouts report mostly a mixed bunch. Flags from Edinburgh, Gallia and Valois have been confirmed."

"What strange times we live in," Siegward commented, having been walking a circle around the table.

Nikola raised an eyebrow. "Something to share?"

"Just that since gaining its independence, Gallia has resisted any and all efforts to make it part of the European community," Siegward said; "I find it odd they'd care enough to assist."

"Ah, from what I heard in my cell, it's a company of shocktroopers who were discharged from the main army," Ulf explained, tugging his beard.

"It is all semantics anyway," Sorina interrupted. Her presence causing a chill to wash over the entire tent as she dragged herself to front of the men. "Why should we lament who is buried when the shooting is through? Nord. Fed." She unfurled a crooked finger, directing everyone to Lowerholm. "I propose no quarter. The city must be seized and reduced to a memory."

Her ominous statement settled upon the men, whose reactions were as mixed as their uniforms. It did not take all of Nikola or Chiara's neurons to know to read the room. They knew their orders. Before either could interject, Ulf came around the table, making sure he could stare Sorina in the face. "Lowerholm will be seized but not destroyed. That was my promise to my people."

Sorina scoffed and from beneath her bandages something pointed bulged. "Your people… kekek." Amused, she spoke to the room. "What is a Nord! Show one to me!" she answered her question with icy venom. "There are no Nords anymore. Time to —"

"Enough! Out!" Chiara shouted, taking control as she pointed to the tent's exit.

"We've got a war to plan. Your preaching is annoying," Nikola added, pressing two fingers against her temple.

"Ah. Forgive me." Sorina bowed, dropping her head down and from the top of her skull, Nikola could see chunks of blue speckling white hair. Sorina smiled as she left. "Play diplomacy for now, but hesitation is a loathsome quality."

Nikola watched her leave. Staring at the tent flap, she realized Gunther must have slipped away during the briefing. "Tch." She grabbed Chiara's arm. "Your idiot friend has gone and wandered off."

"So?" Chiara shook her head. She gestured back to the map. "It's not our job to babysit him."

"Have you forgotten discipline is our responsibility? What's stopping him from leaving during a fight?" It had dawned on Nikola she found the tactical side of war dull, mind numbingly so. Her experience with X-0 taught her improvisation in the field was the key to success. "We need to make sure he stays put next time."

Chiara squinted, one side of lips curling upward. "Sure, Nikola. If you are that worried about him. We can go find Gunther." She emphasized her teasing by poking her partner's pale cheek. "Your first crush~"

Nikola scowled and answered by chomping on Chiara's index. The spectacle of which caused Siegward to clear his throat, reminding both girls they were being watched. "Not to interrupt, but can we continue?"

Embarrassed, Nikola and Chiara, equally red in the face, both stammered an explanation. Remembering they were in charge, they barked. "Carry on! P-Please excuse us!" Then scrambled out of the tent before anyone could object.