Disclaimer: It's been over nine months and I still don't own Youjo Senki

Chapter 35

January 12, 1932, Camp Eagle 7, Ancyra, Turkmen Empire

I smiled up at Visha as she stopped by with my evening coffee. I couldn't help it, she'd been so radiant these past few days, her joy was infectious.

I'd never have thought that such a practical girl could get so excited over some simple jewelry.

Even now, the discreet little ruby studs flashed charmingly from her ears. I don't think she'd taken them off since I presented them to her for her birthday last week.

"I'm going to inspect the camp. Don't stay up too late, Colonel."

"No chance of that with you around," I huffed in amusement. Since we shared sleeping quarters, Visha always knew when I got lost in my work, and she'd started physically dragging me off to bed whenever it got late.

Strictly speaking, it was conducting unbecoming towards a superior officer. But I allowed it. To be honest, I'd found myself allowing quite a few things where Visha was concerned.

For example, as Visha smiled and took her leave, I allowed myself to discreetly admire her swaying hips as she walked out of my office.

The twinge of guilt came and went, so routine as to be unremarkable. It was something I'd slowly come to accept - my crush on my subordinate was not going away anytime soon.

It was an illusion that was dangerously easy to get lost in. We were very comfortable around each other, she seemed to take joy in looking after me, and I had all the opportunity I needed to admire those parts of her that made my libido strain at the leash.

If I was a less rational person, I could have easily convinced myself to reach out to her for something more. But there was no way I was going to risk driving off my most valuable subordinate over some inane domestic fantasy. As it is, I'd opted for the more expensive option of jewelry for her birthday gift in an attempt to soothe my guilt over so shamelessly enjoying her physical proximity.

The thought of expense finally took my mind off Visha, and brought me back to the problem that had been vexing me. Simply put, I was in danger of running out of money.

Ironically, I was a victim of my own success. When I'd sent Visha to recruit among the locals, I'd seriously underestimated the demand for meaningful employment among the Turkmen's magically gifted female population. Right now we had almost 60 trainees, the vast majority of them women, and even the most advanced of them was several months away from what I would call minimally qualified. Fifteen months, if I wanted to shoot for 'adequate'.

And training aerial mages was expensive. There was the enormous up-front cost of their computation orbs, and then there was their salaries, living expenses, training costs, and so on and so forth. Even with a portion of this being subsidized by my employer, Silver Lance's operating costs were still well above my budget.

My income from other sources was also dubious. The other companies I partnered in were either struggling under the ongoing global depression, or - if they were profitable - undergoing a phase of expansion. Either way, barring some truly unexpected success, dividends would be minimal in the short term. If my current projections held true, my liquid reserves would be running dry just as the first batch finished their training.

In an ideal world, these new mages would immediately find themselves added to the contract Silver Lance had with the Turkmen government. However, when the Turkmen had originally offered me their contract, Silver Lance had numbered barely a dozen mages. Expecting them to absorb a 500% increase in the size of the contract was beyond optimistic.

Still, I had to try. I would have to take some time off to go and talk to Mustafa Pasha. He was our patron in the Turkmen military. With the ongoing tensions and the rumblings of internal dissent, he would hopefully see the value in increasing the pool of aerial mages available to his government.

But having only one option was never a good idea. As long as I was going to Istanbul, I might as well snoop around the Turkmen capital and see if there might be anyone else who would soon have need of an extra platoon or two of aerial mages.

I couldn't leave right away though. Training was reaching a fever pitch. The second batch of Turkmen officers were in the middle of their remedial training, and our first batch of recruits were just starting with their first flights.

I'd have to wait a few more months before taking the trip. Which was fine. It would give me time to put out some feelers, get an idea of who to approach once I was in Istanbul.

Besides, if I planned it properly, I could also squeeze in some sightseeing. I'm sure Visha will love the chance to properly tour a city so rich in history.

I paused, then mentally groaned. This was just one more downside to my ongoing crush - making decisions based on what would let me spend time around Visha, instead of good business sense. The thing is, I could come up with some solid reasons for bringing Visha along. Not only was she a superb aide, but she was also very charming, and had a way of putting people at ease that I simply lacked. Exposing her to high-level negotiations could be a great way to raise the profile of both her and Silver Lance.

But, at the same time, Visha was also my second. It would normally fall to her to be in charge of Silver Lance while I was off on business. Spending more time in command could only be good for her personal development.

What a dilemma! Raise her profile, or raise her skills? Both were equally vital for a successful career. I knew which one I preferred, but I was also emotionally compromised.

Luckily, the solution was simple. I would leave the decision up to Visha. She was smart enough to know what was best for herself. And that way, the decision would be made by someone who wasn't being controlled by their hormones.

March 10, 1932, Near the border of Ispagnian Angola and Germanian Congo, Africa

Elya reached up to her neck and idly crushed a mosquito. A futile gesture, she could hear at least three more buzzing around in the deepening twilight, but it made her feel better.

Malaria was an ongoing concern. So far she and Mary had been spared, but sooner or later the odds would turn against them. She desperately wanted nothing more than to leave this bug-infested hinterland and return to civilization. Unfortunately, there had been... complications.

She looked up as her fellow Interpol agent joined her and accepted the offered bowl of soup. It was bland and watery, the result of too few rations shared among too many people. Sure enough, Mary confirmed her thoughts: "The priest says we're running low on food. It'll take at least several more weeks before the new farms produce anything. More clothes and medicine wouldn't hurt either."

"In other words, exactly what we knew would happen weeks ago," Elya blandly observed. "I take it the government is no help?"

"Most of the people we wrote to didn't even bother to reply. The ones who did claim they have nothing to spare. The priest says the Church is trying to raise more funds, but there's too many places that need help."

Elya hummed in thought. "We can go hunting again, but… game is growing scarce. I'm not sure we can gather enough to keep them from starving."

"Food isn't the only issue. We need a reliable source of clean water. Medicine. Cloth, too, and building materials."

"And where are we going to get all of that from? Because I don't have that much saved up. Unless, of course, you're willing to use the obvious solution."

"We're here to investigate cross-border smuggling, not participate in it!" Mary hissed furiously.

"We're not here to crusade against slavery either, and yet here we are," observed Elya.

"You think we should have left these people to… to…"

"I was right beside you when you started shooting, wasn't I? But now we need to make a decision. Do we use what we have on hand? Or do we risk letting these people starve?"

"You're talking about selling off our evidence."

"We have plenty more evidence already recorded on our orbs. Besides, the chain of custody is fucked to hell, you know none of this will hold up in court."

As Elya spoke, she reached under her shirt and pulled out a roll of cloth. Unfolding it revealed a scattering of pebbles that twinkled in the fading light.

When the two of them had set out to investigate the possibility of Germanian interference in Angola, neither of them had expected it to be so blatant. Once they got close to the border, no one was even trying to hide what was going on.

It was honestly somewhat impressive. Ispagnia's efforts to exploit the region had always been rather haphazard. Now, seemingly overnight, roads had been cut through the jungle and outposts established to harvest timber and mine diamonds. All these treasures were then bartered to middlemen for food, booze, guns and gold. Middlemen who were not in any way approved by the Ispagnian government, and who certainly didn't bother paying any taxes when carting their gains across the border into the Congo.

Many of these outposts were village or family affairs, poor people trying to get by the best they could. However, several of them, particularly those involved with the diamond trade, were brutal hell pits on par with the worst either of them had witnessed in the Congo.

The big difference was, in the Congo, the brutality had been enforced by mercenaries in the pay of their Germanian overlords. Here, the locals were doing it to themselves. Roving warbands from stronger tribes would raid weakly defended settlements for what basically amounted to slaves to work the mines.

All this and more had been recorded in sufficient detail that both their computation orbs were running out of storage, and it would certainly kick off quite the scandal once they reported back.

The diamonds, on the other hand, were evidence that had been gathered by accident. One particular mining outpost had been a particularly horrific example of unchecked greed. Horrific enough that when Mary had finally lost her temper, Elya hadn't tried very hard to smooth things over. In fact, one might go so far as to say that she had encouraged the volatile American.

When the shooting finally stopped, all the outpost's 'owners' were dead or fleeing, and there were suddenly over two hundred civilians, mostly women and teenagers, with nowhere to go and terrified of retaliation.

The priest had been a godsend. An old Ildoan missionary who had been acting as emotional support and nurse to the slaves, he had quickly organized them and gotten them moving back towards less dangerous locales. He'd also gotten in touch with his superiors in the Church, begging for supplies.

The Church came through, enough to get started on establishing a new village for the newly freed. But even with two aerial mages acting as hunters and security, the settlement was still far short of where it could be considered self-sufficient.

Which brought them to the here and now, and the diamonds they had confiscated from the outpost. Diamonds that Elya was honestly not sure they should be holding on to. Mary thought they could serve as additional evidence of the illegal mining and smuggling. Elya was afraid they would serve as evidence at their court-martial. Because, at the end of the day, they had killed upwards of a dozen people. Yes, it was technically in defense of others, but Elya and Mary were not part of the Ispagnian government. The two of them had no authority to even arrest criminals in Angola, let alone kill them and confiscate their property as evidence.

Elya didn't bother repeating these arguments. Instead she let the current situation speak for her. The settlement needed the money, and they didn't need the stones.

Neither of them considered leaving the village behind for even one second. In this, Elya and Mary were of one mind. They'd started this mess, and they were going to see it through.

Mary gritted her teeth in frustration. "Fine. But where do we go to liquidate them?"

"Where else? We need food, medicine, clothing… and we have people willing to pay in exactly those goods, just a few days north of here."

"Cold Steel? You want to put money in those bastards' pockets?! They caused this entire mess!"

"Only indirectly," observed Elya. "They certainly didn't tell that warlord to attack and enslave these villagers."

"No, they just armed and supplied him!"

"Look at it this way. You know and I know that the smugglers are most likely Cold Steel, but we haven't actually got any evidence of that yet. But if we do business with them, maybe our orbs will record something interesting?"

Eventually, Elya succeeded in convincing Mary, and five days later, they were approaching what felt like the nerve center of the entire smuggling operation.

It was a large semi-permanent settlement on the banks of the river that acted as the border between Angola and Congo, with dozens of workers and guards. No company markings or logos, but the prevalence of Scorpion machine-pistols and other gear right out of the Cold Steel catalog told them they were on the right track.

At first, it seemed things would be uneventful. A clerk weighed and valued their diamonds, and they negotiated payment in the form of a variety of essential supplies, orbs recording all the while.

Then Elya sensed magical fluctuations indicating active spellcraft, and it was not coming from her colleague.

A new figure approached their table. It looked like one of the soldiers, dressed in jungle fatigues with a submachine gun at rest and a combat knife at his hip. The big difference was the visual distortion that surrounded the man's head, turning his features into an unrecognizable smear.

The clerk they were speaking to stuttered into silence as the strange figure came to a halt, casually leaning against their table and looking down at the scattered gems.

Elya swallowed. Judging by how the man's exposed skin was white, this was almost guaranteed to be a former member of Degurechaff's 203rd. The Interpol agent could almost feel the cold barrel of Visha's pistol pressed to the back of her head. Without even looking, she reached out and clamped down on Mary's hand, preventing it from reaching for a gun.

After a silence that seemed to last for an eternity, the man reached out and fingered one of the stones. "Nice pile," he observed, and his voice was as distorted as his face. Then he reached across and grabbed the clerk's notebook, studying their order. "Strange, though," he continued. "This is a lot of supplies. Way more than for two ladies. Enough for a small village."

"Would that be a problem?" asked Elya, voice as calm and indifferent as she could make it.

"Oh no, not at all. It's just funny though. One of the groups that did business with us got hit pretty hard. Someone killed a bunch of their men, and drove off or kidnapped all their workers. They said some of their attackers were women. White ones."

"That is funny," Mary cut in, teeth bared. "'Cos I heard a rumor about a bunch of slaving bastards getting the shit kicked out of them."

Elya felt her stomach drop. Going up against a member of the 203rd was not something she wanted to do, even if they outnumbered him.

Then the man laughed. Voice distorted, it was awfully creepy. "The world is a funny place," he agreed genially. His gun remained at rest and pointed away from them. "Well, not that it matters. It's not like we're the police or anything. Still, better be careful. I hear those guys went and got hold of a bunch of their friends and are now looking for their attackers. Would be a shame if they mistook you for them."

"I'm sure it'll be fine," offered Elya.

"Hope so. Well, don't let me interrupt you any further." Seemingly having said his piece, the man walked off.

Elya and Mary shared a glance. A silent what the hell was answered by an equally perplexed heck if I know.

In the end, the only effect of the strange visit seemed to be the clerk suddenly having discovered a newfound respect for them, which led to greatly improved service. Within the hour, they had arranged for a small convoy and were headed back to the village.

"So, you understand the message?" asked Klaus von Becker, formerly of the 203rd, now chief of Cold Steel's very illegal operation in Angola.

"Sure thing boss-man," replied the messenger. "I tell the Ngombundu that the women they look for just left and which way they went. You want I get some of the boys to help out?"

"Of course not. This is their business, not ours. They can deal with it."

"Okay boss-man."

As the messenger took off, Klaus made his own preparations. The whole reason he'd approached the duo was to confirm that one of them really was Mary Sioux, or Madelaine as he'd known her. As for the other, he recognized the description of one Elya Roth. Both qualified mages, both agents of Interpol.

Now, he faded into the jungle, weapons ready, going the same direction as the messenger. The Ngombundu tribe had been incensed at the slaughter of their garrison, and they would surely go after the two women for revenge. Klaus would follow them, and make sure none of those fuckers survived their little assault.

Honestly, he was envious of Mary and Elya. Ever since he started this operation, the Ngombundu tribe had been throwing their weight around. They weren't the only group forcing others to work for them, but they were by far the worst. Sending a few dozens of their so-called warriors to disappear into the jungle would be perfect for taking them down a peg, and he was glad to finally make it happen.

Sure, discouraging these warlords might reduce the turnover of the smuggling operation. But what did Klaus care for that? This whole business was disgusting. The only reason he was still here was because the Major needed a man on the inside in Cold Steel.

Besides… Klaus grinned as he ran a quick diagnostic on the recording functions of his own computation orb. He was sure the Major could make good use of a few pictures of a pair of Interpol mages gunning down a bunch of natives. Sure, the two women could claim self-defense. But pictures are worth a thousand words.

April 27, 1932, Istanbul, Turkmen Empire

I smiled at the well-dressed elderly gentleman sitting across from me. Kelust Gulbenk was exactly the kind of contact I was hoping to make when I came to Istanbul.

Right now he was merrily chatting with Visha. She had chosen to accompany me to Istanbul, and I was glad she did. It was clear that Mr. Gulbenk was genuinely charmed by her, which should only make it easier to persuade him that a company of Silver Lance mages would be just right for his security needs.

After all, he was a globe-trotting multimillionaire oil tycoon! His business interests took him all over the world, and someone of his wealth and status could surely never have too much security.

The best part was, I didn't have to reach out to him, he came to me! Apparently he'd heard of me from his friends in the Turkmen government, and he had made it a point to meet me at the first opportunity. I took it as a sign that Silver Lance was already developing a good reputation.

Of course, even if he was interested, that didn't mean he would be rushed into any kind of agreement. The man was a canny operator, there was no doubt of that. He'd spent much of this interview sounding me out on exactly what I'd be willing to do for my paycheck. Clearly, he was looking to get his money's worth.

Right now, Visha was regaling him with humorous stories of all the pain and suffering we inflicted on our trainees in the pursuit of our very high combat standards. She was justly proud of how well we'd managed to hammer even the recalcitrant Turkmen officers into a decent standard of performance, and she was cheerfully assuring him how our internally trained mages would be even better.

In fact, now that I looked closely, Visha might just be getting carried away. Customers don't need to know all the gory details of our profession, and Mr. Gulbenk was actually starting to look a bit worried as Visha got into the nitty-gritty of urban combat tactics against potential insurrectionists. I swear, once a battle maniac, always a battle maniac.

I cleared my throat, "I don't think Mr. Gulbenk needs to hear about all that, Visha. After all," I smiled at him, "It's not like he's going to fight a civil war or anything."

"Ah, no of course not. The idea! Ha ha!" Chuckling at the absurd thought, the elderly gent turned to me. "Still, I have to wonder. You mentioned that you are available for hire. Do you not have an ongoing contract with the government?"

"The contract only covers the current members of Silver Lance," I explained. "However, we are expanding quite quickly. We'll be activating ten new members in six months' time, and as many as another forty by this time next year. Perhaps the government will agree to hire them as well, but I won't say no to a second offer."

Gulbenk cocked a bushy eyebrow. "Are you trying to start a bidding war?"

"Of course not. We have a perfectly transparent fee structure, and anyone who can meet them will be able to avail our services," I rushed to assure him.

The last thing I needed was to develop a reputation of being available to the highest bidder. Any mercenary who pursued such a reputation was a fool, the real money was in steady long-term contracts with customers who could trust you to do your job, and who you could trust to pay their bills on time. It worked for Velvet Iron, and it will work for Silver Lance.

"Fifty new mages though… that's almost a tenth the size of the current Turkmen mage corps," he mused. "I'm surprised you were able to recruit so many so quickly."

"I have some very talented scouts. Visha here did the bulk of the recruiting." I smiled as she preened under the praise.

"It will certainly represent a formidable reinforcement to the Turkmen armed forces. Assuming they hire you, of course," observed Gulbenk.

Damn it. Did he manage to pick up on my worry about finding work for my new forces? Does he think he might be able to squeeze me for a good deal? Time to wind him up a bit.

"It's why I'll be meeting with Mustafa Pasha later this week," I tossed out carelessly. "He, at least, appreciates us. Even sent his own daughter to train with us! It might take some doing, but I'm sure he'll be able to find the budget for us."

I kept a careful poker face as I saw his worried twitch. That's right, I already have a customer waiting in the wings. If you want to buy my services, you'll have to pay the full market value!

"I am acquainted with the Pasha," he reluctantly admitted. "A most forward thinking and intelligent man, and a true patriot."

"Indeed he is," I agreed. "An avid student of modern tactics, too. And as the war in Europa proved, one can never have too many aerial mages. Unless I get a prior offer, I'm sure he'll eventually end up hiring my latest batch."

I was sure of no such thing, but that didn't matter. He tried his best to hide it, but I could tell he was seriously considering my words.

As I and Visha took our leave I was well satisfied. Judging by how concerned he seemed, it was clear he really was interested in Silver Lance. Now that he thought there was a chance of the Turkmen monopolizing our mages, he was bound to make a decision.

He wouldn't be the only one either. Right now Silver Lance was most likely the only private provider of combat-grade aerial mages. I had to make hay as long as I had this monopoly. There were a large number of major companies in Istanbul, particularly multinational petroleum corporations, and I had a number of meetings lined up over the next few days.

I was going to let these international moneybags know that for a limited time only, they could have their own private aerial mage platoons. And if they dragged their feet, then the Turkmen would swoop in.

Fear of missing out was not just a phenomenon of the digital age. If I could manage our image correctly, then we should be seeing quite the interesting response over the next months.