The Purpose of Conflict: Chapter Twenty-Two- Osfjord Rescue Operation I
01/12/1924 / Berun, Germanic Empire / Aquilonian Embassy, Entrance to First Floor Kitchen / 01:23
Princess Rachel Stuart ran a hand down through her messy hair and knocked on the kitchen door, nervously awaiting permission to enter. She regretted not pretending she had slept; pants, a blouse, and braces made for a lousy disguise for a nightgown. There was no doubt Mother would complain that it was too late in the night to ask for her attention. But regrets had to be silenced when Queen Annabelle V called for her to enter lest an order be refused. People were supposed to be honoured at the beckon, Rachel let herself sigh before she let herself in.
Mother was busy by the island counter in the centre of the small kitchen. An array of bowls and baking instruments littered the countertop. The overhead electrical lights basked the room in a bright white aura that seemed to purify Mother in her recreational hour. As the eldest daughter Rachel knew she could enter but would need to wait until Mother finished her task before she would be acknowledged. A near minute passed in silence, occupied by busy hands in motion and the clock ticking.
"Is there something you need?" Mother put her wooden spoon down and pointed to an apron on the wall behind her daughter. Finally ready for a conversation.
Rachel tied the apron around her. She whispered, "Rabbit, rabbit, rabbit."
Mother paused; her confused face turning to a smirk. "It is the first day of December. It passed by my mind." Mother placed a lump of dough onto a cutting board and slid it to Rachel's side of the island. "You should be in bed, Rachel."
"Don't you think that's the pot calling the kettle black Mother?" Rachel was handed a rolling pin. However, it was a trick; it would be her metaphorical head if she touched an ingredient or utensil without washing her hands. Mother continued her questions as Rachel stood before the sink cleaning herself.
"It was an arduous day and I have a cumbersome meeting planned for the early hours of the morning. My mind won't be able to settle in for the night if I go to bed thinking about politics. That is mine, what is your excuse?" Mother smirked at her kin.
"I couldn't sleep." Rachel's attitude supported the worthless claim as much as her appearance did. She dried her hands and moved back to the mound of dough. "I almost don't see a point in it."
Mother nodded, busy with her work and waiting for Rachel to get on to her original purpose for having barged in. Rachel absentmindedly pushed her fingers into the dough.
"Have you heard anything back from the maids?" She tried to question if it was safe to talk about that topic in this setting. In a method, only a parent could pick up. Mother understood what she asked. Dispelling the unmentioned threat of hypothetical eavesdropping.
"I put your brother in charge of the operation. You should be asking him." Mother did not look up from her mixing bowl.
"Are you under the belief he will do his job?" Rachel plopped the dough onto the counter, more so playing with its unformed mass than kneading it. There would need to be more for Mother to latch onto the bait. "Have you seen him in that office? Are you sure he didn't sneak back to play with Curry's soldiers in the sandbox, or he isn't under a beerhall table."
Mother abruptly ceased her culinary activity to stare knives into Rachel's skull. "In private you may degrade your brother so long as it pleases you. But you will not refer to the men in my armies as a child's plaything."
Rachel made a quiet apology for overstepping her bounds. After a breath of silence, Mother sighed and relented the information sought by her child "Canaris has a sedentary schedule. From his residence to the Abwehr offices with few appearances at other institutions. Outwardly, he lives the picturesque life one would expect of a proud Germainian Junker. We are exploring other employees for an opportunity to knock the horse out from under the rider; his secretary is the best option for the time being. Our acrobat from Sheffield, Miss Canvel, is pursuing one Ruth von Hans; the daughter of the Western Army Group Commander. Miss Canvel theorises the family might be tied to Canaris' misdeeds. James can give you a detailed breakdown if you have the time."
Rachel tsked louder than intended. "He was useless last time. How can you trust him now!" Rachel started to roll the dough; more disturbances were muttered in the process. "Where was he when I needed him back then?"
"Well, he is here for you now Rachel!" Mother bit back. The cooking was abruptly halted with Mother walking around the counter island towards her daughter. "I understand you are scared. All this worry will not change the outcome, nor will it solve our problem. We must be patient sweetheart." She wiped her hands on her apron and put her hands on Rachel's cheeks "I need you to trust me, Rachel please trust me."
Rachel attempted to pull back but had her effort denied. Mother pulled her in tighter, a queen with a silent demand that would be met; one Rachel begrudgingly desired too.
"You must despise me." Rachel moved her length of hair again, a way to break eye contact with Mother. "If I was smarter back then we wouldn't have to play this game again."
"Sweetheart." Mother did not hide the pain in her voice.
Mother grabbed her hand, tight enough to not allow Rachel to pull away but remaining gentle as to her character. The proud face minted on every bad coin finally showed a lesser emotion: sorrow – however mild.
"I could never hate or despise any of my children." Rachel attempted to intervene but was cut off. "No matter what mistakes are made, I will always love you."
"Even if I wear man's pants?" Rachel wanted to smother the emotional moment despite how much she craved it. Mother would not allow it; she was hugging her daughter, and nothing could interrupt it.
"Even if you always fight me on wearing a skirt. If James and Gabriel are always biting at each other and Leah can never see past her arrogance." I will always love my children."
"How is Gabriel anyway? I have yet to hear a single thing since we last spoke. Is he still up in Scandinavia? He should have got his arm out of the cast by now, correct?" Mother made a noise of satisfaction to herself.
"Gabriel is back to full health. He is with that little Imperial girl and her secretive mage unit. They are operating tonight to cut off the Entente's supply line and attack them in the rear. They should have returned to base about now."
"Not much a secret then is it?" Rachel was smiling against her mother.
"Oh, not for me sweetheart. Nothing is a secret from me."
01/12/1924 / Stockholm, Legadonia Entente Alliance/ First National Bank, Exterior / 01:28
Mr. Cain took a deep breath once he stepped out of the stuffy bank interior; the cold air and scent of distant smoke did wonders for his sinuses.
The plan was proceeding without issue – minus the two-policeman interrogating the truck driver in the bank's reserved parking lot. Cain fixed his top hat and stepped towards the evidently aggressive exchange. The Unitary did not employ "diplomats" like him with the intent of being flaccid. He cleared his throat and readied for the Scandinavian language.
"Gentlemen." The pair turned around to face Mr. Cain walking towards them. A well-tailored suit and a sly smile could make any thick-headed flatfoot drop his guard. "Is there a problem here?"
"The curfew is in effect. All personnel without adequate authentication are under legal suspicion of collaboration with the Imperial forces near the city. You will both need to come with us."
"I am afraid we cannot comply. This shipment is of vital importance and the Empire's distance to your capital has hastened our activities." This was the men's final chance to prove themselves capable of self-preservation. Of course, if they had any they would have walked on instead of investigating the suspicious movement in the building's parking lot.
The men looked at each other, then back to Cain. "Then you should be able to provide paperwork and identification. Otherwise, we will need to visit the stationhouse."
"I understand. We all must do our duty." Cain offered his wrists, his smile maintained throughout. The pair approached without alarm. It made that little fire in his stomach spark up into a hearty chuckle Cain had to suppress. Humans could be remarkably easy to lead along like dogs.
"Thank you for your cooperation sir." An officer grabbed his wrist.
"Not at all. I am thankful I get to enjoy my work." Cain activated a concentrated blade of mana puncturing the first man's chest. The thing grunted, combined with a visceral gushing of liquids escaping from the bounds of captivity. The blade swiped horizontally into the second cop, separating him into two equally sized cuts of man. The remains collapsed onto the snow-white cobblestones. The scent in the air was spiked with a heavy scent of iron. Smoke, snow, and blood – that was something to be revered.
The lapse in concentration made the magical blade break apart in the air. An unremarkable conclusion to a familiar tool to him; if not the driver.
"What the hell was that?!" The driver leaned out the window. Stuck in awe like a child witnessing a wonder at the fairground. Cain had to smile, he was admittedly impressed by the men of the 44th Beneficiarius Brigade, their willingness to learn mirrored their efficiency. Their hearts of iron must have been how Donahue received such respect. It was a spot of luck the bulk of the infantry was left in reserve so Cain could borrow the bodies he sought.
"A magical formula. If a mage has the gumption and skill they can craft pure mana into a weapon. It is taxing so most will settle for enhancing a tool with mana." Cain stepped up to the driver's side door, instinctively pushing the limit of what the infamous brigade soldier would let him get away with. "I thought the great Donahue would be able to utilise it."
The gruff man scowled at him. "You better watch what you say. Speak better of the Brigadier or you'll be walking home once we load up."
"Noted. However, I will remain in the capital until my business has concluded." Cain did not attempt to sound humbled. Although he remained impressed with the loyalty Donahue amassed. He reached into his suit coat to pass a paper envelope to the driver. "Once the gold is loaded up follow the map unless the Empire parked a tank along the road. The money should serve as your passport if you are forced to stop. Just in case." Cain pulled out another two envelopes he filled inside the bank vault. "Here's enough krona to buy half the Legadonian army if they give you any trouble. The other one is for you and the boys. Don't get any funny ideas about helping yourselves to the gold. Got it?"
The driver confirmed, grinning with his payment of soon-to-be "lost" Unified States money. Mr. Cain procured the final batch of explosives from the rear of the truck and returned to the bank; having to step over the two bodies again. They had to be thorough, after all, in less than an hour this would be the sight of a stray artillery shell. After that, it would be a prolonged mission to keep a finger on the pulse of the Legadonia Entente government. In the event of the front deteriorating further, he would need to extract the fools to the north.
"All in a day's work." Mr. Cain whispered to himself. He paused and took in a final whiff of the nighttime air. A genuine smile slowly curled onto his face, faint but not created for fabrication. The lingering scent of that invasive fire and iron reminded him of the perks that came with the job.
01/12/1924 / Reinheimen Mountain Area, Legadonia Entente Alliance / Second Wendigo Crash Site / 01:33
Tanya von Degurechaff surveyed the surroundings of the second crash site, a place as lifeless as the rest of the frozen forest. The benefit of winter was the low white glow of reflected moonlight that permeated from the ground. At the darkest time, she could still make out the silhouettes of the people and objects in her surroundings. Although, no signs of life – human or wildlife – could be found anywhere in the forest. She inwardly groaned. The mission could never be simple; that tyrant Being X must have seen to that.
"Clear!" Tanya shouted out; the voices of her selected party trickled in after her. "Clear!" "Clear!" "Clear!"
Second Lieutenants Serabryakov, Grantz and First Lieutenant Neumann answered her call. Their scan for mana signatures had turned up empty but Tanya was in no mood for taking any chances. She would not allow herself to be rewarded with an unlucky bullet to her cranium for a sloppy search and identification, it would be an embarrassment to lose her life or one of her shields in such a careless way.
The other three Imperials moved through the settled snow to regroup on her position, an increasingly difficult task with flight gear strapped to their bodies. Tanya hoped their search would not last much longer. She already felt the cold bleed into her flight suit and boots without the physical activity of manoeuvring in flight. The goggles gifted to her kept the wind and falling snowflakes out of her eyes but did nothing to keep the heat in. The others wore expressions of concern but were likely just as angry that they were selected by her. They would rather be with the battalion pressed back into service under Weiss' command, not off on a wild hunt in the frigid mountains. They were a glorified distraction for a small group to get in-and-out without drawing Entente mages, but she feared her human shields would resent being taken from the killing fields. Tanya cleared her throat when the trio assembled before her. They had to find those darned Albions soon if she was to avoid the worst accusations.
"Neumann, you have permission to break radio silence. See if one of the Limeys is leaving a mana signature for us to track. If that fails, attempt to hail one of them on their computation orb. Get above the tree line if it interferes with reception."
"Yes, Ma'am." The bull-like man immediately wandered off to tinkering with his orb. Tanya had initially decided to bring along Neumann in case she needed a wall of flesh to carry the prince out; not to mention it spared the twig-like adjutant from being weighted down with the trauma bag. However, his unexhausted passive optimism was a worthy quality to underline her command on a mission she had no business being assigned.
Serebryakov and Grantz kept their attention on her in anticipation of their orders. Like a good commander, Tanya would share in the endeavour when it serviced her. "Look around for tracks in the snow. If they were all capable of flight then they wouldn't need us to come rescue them."
They affirmed the order, splitting up into groups illuminated by the fire.
The full sequence of events that had led them to the wreckage eluded her for the moment. The only information they had gleamed was two separate planes had crashed with the stranded crew incapable of retreat but mobile enough to evacuate the respective areas. The rest was an unfulfilling mystery. When they arrived at the first crash site there were few clues to build from. It appeared to be sabotaged by a magical formula after the crash with no sign of the crew in the snow-ladened field. This site differed in that the roaring fire had already engulfed some nearby trees. Thankfully the wind and snow were quelling the fire, so the Empire's forces would not combat wildfires along with the Entente.
Grantz and Visha's current theory was the Lieutenant took his pilot to their present location to link with the other plane - the large roaring fire being evidence of their visitation. It was logical, although Tanya would not rely on Visha's certainty that the deteriorated mark barely legible through the flames was the Aboriginal swastika she saw in Dacia.
It did not take long for Tanya to see the amateur detective falter in their search. "Lieutenant." Tanya called to her adjutant, seeing her lost in thought looking at the wreckage while nursing a blackened bruise on her cheek; the girl snapped to attention. "Ma'am." Visha straightened up. "My apologies ma'am." She was startled, Tanya wondered if her concern was not an act or incited by a lack of combat. She motioned for Visha to walk with her.
"I need you to stay focused."
"I know. I'm sorry Major." Visha seemed sincere. "Not knowing if the others are safe and sound is making me anxious." They were both as close to the fire as could be tolerated, momentarily warming themselves in the frigid environment. "Do you think the prince and Peggie are already moving to the coast? Maybe we missed them while we were flying out here."
"That is what we must determine Lieutenant." Tanya kept her composure for the time. She would have to have words with that royal once the night ended. She never anticipated Lieutenant Stuart would be so inconsiderate of her schedule. If she were lucky, he might have broken another bone out here as a form of punishment. She could not inflict one on him herself of course, at least not without a court martial.
The wreckage collapsed in on itself, causing a bustle of red and orange embers to float into the night sky. What little remained sparked the next thought in Visha's mind. "At least we can't see any bodies, and if they destroyed both planes then some of them must be unharmed. I thank the Lord they are alive."
Tanya decided against pointing out the lack of life signs at either location. Their royal had to be somewhere, but it evidently was nowhere that made their task easier. Ideally, he would be capable of flight and the mission would not be retrieving the remains of a wolf's dinner.
"I hope He stays out of it for our safety."
"Major. I found something. Lieutenant Grantz shouted for them, which promptly ended the conversation. They manoeuvred through the snow to the call; the blond officer was crouched over a seemingly normal stretch of snow.
"What is it Lieutenant Grantz?"
"Tracks, I think it might be two or three sets." He excitedly said overlooking the normal stretch of land devoid of prints. Indistinguishable from every other patch of mildly ruffled snow in the woods. Tanya said the polite version of the thoughts that crossed her mind.
"I believe you might need to get your eyes checked. I thought the military had tests when they put us through basic training."
"Trust me, ma'am. Look here." The excitement did not let up. Tanya and Visha bent down to witness the apparent sign of human life. In the faint light of the fire, there was a small trace of vertical lines, as if a branch or piece of wilderness was dragged along the surface of the snow.
"It's a trick used to hide tracks in the snow. By tying branches to your waist and letting them drag behind you. Sometimes it's better to masquerade than conceal yourself." Grantz remarked with a sort of enthusiasm lost to Tanya. Could people really be this thrilled by sticks and leaves?
"Can you be certain these are what you claim?"
"I'm confident ma'am. I used to hunt with my father and sister when I was a kid. He taught us about tracking. Frederique and I talked about it at the party. She would definitely know how to do this."
Tanya silently pondered the information. It was almost certainly the individuals they were sent for. The enemy was inept to start the war but had the sense to fly over a forest. A piece of information did stand out to her urbanite mindset. An inconsistency that was frustrating if irrelevant to their present situation. "Why would a hunter need to hide his tracks from wild animals?"
"The animals weren't the ones we were hiding from ma'am." Grantz spoke with a proud, if downplayed, grin. Tanya heard Visha make a noise of realisation, somehow able to find an answer before her battalion commander. When it dawned on her it was comparable to listening to the love life of her officer and an Aquilonain.
"Grantz, are you trying to tell me you were raised by a poacher?" Tanya did not attempt to hide how unimpressed she was with her officer. While not thrilled to learn an officer under her command was a felon by technicality, she had to be lenient. It was not the place to prescribe discipline; further, it was counterintuitive to fault a child who followed the misdeeds of a parent. Retroactive punishments went against her libertarian ideals even if her subordinate's silence achieved the same.
"My old man has always been a Forty-Eighter at heart. I preferred the spirit of hunting instead of undermining landowners."
"Think of it as it pleases you. But if I hear our next fresh meal came from an angry Junker estate I will hand you over personally." Tanya stated her position without hesitancy. "If we need to scrounge for our rations I will ensure you pay the landowner for your hunt." It was unlikely to happen, but she would never let an opportunity overtake her. The last thing she wanted was a report of thievery among her officers to slide onto her desk. It could be a useful resource to have in her back pocket, but it did not outweigh the potential risk. For the moment Grantz was willing to obediently confirm the order and await the time to move out in search of their VIP.
Then a shout bellowed towards them from their vociferous Lieutenant. "Major, I got someone." He huffed over to them, a smile plastered on his face as if he singlehandedly won the war. "They aren't too far away; I think. I'm pretty sure that's what he told me."
"What do you mean?" Tanya asked. Neumann requested the mystery man to repeat himself to then artificially amplified the volume for them to hear. Through the orb came a mildly interfered but understandable message in a mixture of Albion and Germanic. Tanya did not recognize the voice or the distinctive accent, maybe Caribbean or Afrikan; but a man and anything other than Scandinavian or Imperial.
"It's an accent Neumann, not a different language." The large man cowed slightly for his mistake. Regardless the rescue operation was back into a productive swing. Tanya raised her voice for the Albion on the opposite end of the formula. "This is Major Von Degurechaff of the 203rd Aerial Battalion." Tanya tried her best to afford a commanding figure with her shrill ten-year-old voice. "Repeat your coordinates and standby for our arrival."
01/12/1924 / Reinheimen Mountain Area, Legadonia Entente Alliance / 01:42
Gabriel pulled down his hood while he looked through the trees towards the unimposing shelter in the distance. Specs of light bled from cracks into the interior to guide weary travellers. It was the only sign of human activity he had seen on the mountainside apart from themselves. If they were in friendly Imperial territory the sight might not be accompanied by a nagging pain inside his stomach. They might have been led to their deaths or salvation and the truth would not be revealed until it was too late. Nevertheless, a small resting place was what their small group needed. It was what Peggie needed.
"Mr. Johnson." The sergeant looked up from assisting Peggie's pilot. "I would like you to stay here with Mr. Moley and Miss Pierre. Mr. Brown and I will investigate." Gabriel lowered the limp Peggie onto the snowy ground and strode away as quickly as the snow and mage equipment allowed. It was not the time to discuss alternative theories or plans; they needed to fight for every second they had. Even if he had the unshakable notion he would be their demise. He gently planted a kiss on the top of Peggie's head before he turned away, her passive corpse-like reaction made him tremble with each step through the snow.
"Are you sure about this Gabe?" A shivering Brown matched Gabriel's speed. Although doubtful he already had his revolver out.
"Am I certain of which part?" a cloud of mist left Gabriel's mouth as he spoke.
"The Trini is a decent shot. Not as swell as Peg but I'd prefer another target for whoever is in there." He chuckled a bit. "Maybe someone that has a built-in shield for me to hide behind."
"Must I remind you that I am capable of accurate fire. Especially when we are not flying in a Godless aircraft."
"You could have fooled me, sir." Brown muttered about the "poor girl" they lost that night. It would be better to lose one thousand biplanes than Peggie in Gabriel's book.
"In the worst outcome, we should not leave the wounded unattended." The conversation dwindled thereafter. Gabriel led the way, neither swift nor sufficiently quiet with his pilot behind him; he pushed extra mana through the exhausted orb to activate the protective shields.
The hut revealed its run-down condition the closer the duo crept. The planks and logs appeared to be older than any member of their party, quite possibly predating the surrounding forest that likely stood since the time of Christ. The only viable entry point appeared to be the door. Light crept out from the multiple crevasses amid the wooden boards and curtain-drawn windows, likely a dwindling oil lamp without the ferocity or smoke of a roaring fireplace. Gabriel motioned for Mr. Brown to stack up beside the door so they could forcefully enter. It was not dissimilar from the breaching drills they ran back in Aquilonia or put into action against the Rumeli in Afrika. Gabriel preferred to be the second entering if Brown had not understandably forced the issue. He stared at the door he had to kick in. He told himself that it was just a small cabin, not a Unitary fortress. It was like the old ruins he and Peggie used to play in when they were kids. It should be nothing new to him. Why did he feel nervous?
"Are we waiting for an invitation Gabe?" Mr. Brown whispered in his ear, trying to be as nice as possible in their circumstance. It bit at Gabriel's conscience. Others relied on him, yet he found himself stunted by a wooden door. Pushing his reluctance, Gabriel raised his metal boot and kicked into the wood that separated them from the potential safe refuge within.
The door gave way easily. Gabriel threw himself into a sparse single room, merely a fireplace, skis hung on the wall, rudimentary furniture, and an angry-looking woman dashing for cover. While the lighting was not perfect the familiar silhouette of a hunting rifle in her hands was recognizable. At the back of Gabriel's mind was a voice telling him to shoot the perceived threat. However, the finger resting on the trigger froze. The enemy nation waged war on the Empire and the Commonwealth justly responded to an ally's plight. Civilians were to be discouraged and disarmed, they were not combatants until they claimed Commonwealth blood; Peggie's blood had already been shed and a hunter would not stop him.
"Drop it!" Gabriel shouted as loud as his tired voice would allow. "Drop the bloody gun!" The response was a flash, a loud blast that struck against his active shield spell. The barrier buckled, visibly strained but it held without exhausting the computation orb. Mr. Brown swore and threw himself back into the snow outside. Even as his ears rang the woman pulled the rifle bolt back to work in another round. As arrogant as the rest that presumed they had the right to stand in the way of the Commonwealth, of Her Majesty; to threaten Peggie.
Gabriel quickly threw extra mana into his remaining shields and charged the hostile. The rifle stock raised in place of the bayonet. The short distance had him crash against her into the cabin wall with a resounding crack filling the air. Unfazed by the aggression, the woman unsuccessfully tried to pry her attacker off. Even with a foreigner's hand forced into Gabriel's face, he could keep her subdued. Her advantage in height and pent-up energy could not overpower a fully geared arial mage – even with scrappy fingernails which dug into his skin. Gabriel felt the unwelcome feeling of sharp pain compounded by warm blood leaking down his cheek.
If she would not willingly dislodge herself from his scalp then Gabriel was willing to forcibly do such. He took a small step back to slam the woman against the wall. The wood creaked but the woman remained committed to her misguided defence. Another two slams caused another splintering sound to emit through the cabin, Gabriel used the rest of his energy in the next push and split apart the flimsy wall of the shelter. He briefly slid to quickly climb back to his feet, the hostile was not content to lay on her back, so Gabriel kept the enemy down where they belonged. The stock of the rifle served as an effective club in the past, a remarkable tool against the squishy abdomen of insolent toads.
The woman wheezed in pain clutched around her stomach. Disregarding the noise, Gabriel hissed from the pain across his scalp as he touched the fresh wounds, his gloves came away with a few blots of a liquid that had to be his blood. She coughed and grunted, even when Gabriel placed the tip of his bayonet against her neck. Perhaps he should have started with this move to save the effort and remove the obstacle lying on splinters and snow.
"Jesus Christ!" Mr. Brown hissed at him, "I think that is more than enough." He crept up with one of the homeowner's blankets in his hand. He threw it onto her – ever the gentleman. Gabriel wiped away the fresh blood and resolved to keep his thoughts to himself on Brown's spout of idealism.
"Kom deg ut herfra!" The woman shouted at him in her native language. Her fury had not tempered when disarmed on the snow. It was admirable, although they were all fighting for the preservation of a life.
"Go on," William nudged him from behind his back, "talk to the Swede. Use some of those languages you have up your sleeve."
"I believe she is a Norge Mr. Brown. Furthermore, I can barely speak Norge. I never studied the languages of the Entente Alliance." Gabriel kept his rifle on the woman. "I was preoccupied with my arm being in a cast."
"Well look where that got us, eh."
"Please be quiet." Gabriel refocused on the woman; attempting to be as diplomatic as the situation could allow. "Germanic?"
"Nei." Garbiel assumed that was a negative answer. She asked for her language, which Gabriel repeated her answer back to her. Then the cycle repeated.
"Francoisian?" The woman hesitantly nodded. The fire in her eyes was untamed. "I can speak enough." Gabriel thought for a moment about what to say. The diplomacy was often handled by other members of the 27th. "We have an injured man. He might not survive without shelter and proper medical attention."
"Neither can I." She sat up with the blanket wrapped around her torso. The nighttime air suddenly felt colder against the exposed skin. The damage Gabriel caused at the moment had worked against his men as much as it did to an innocent civilians. What was he doing? What would Miss Ketchener say if she saw what he did? No doubt in his mind, she would be ashamed of his treatment of a woman. She raised him to be better, he was trained to be better; now his careless aggression endangered everyone. The wooden cross that hung around his neck had the imagined weight of bricks which forced his head into a real bow.
What if she was with child? Gabriel's heart sank into his stomach. The idea he murdered an unborn – the most innocent in the eyes of the Father – was unthinkable. She looked slim, even somewhat dishevelled from her living situation. Was there even a man present to have fathered the possible child into the first trimester? There was no need for the memory of Gabriel's governess to shame him.
Gabriel lowered his gun and placed it against the wooden wall. The passive shield remained active, if seemingly unnecessary with the resistance from the homeowner. If for a moment they reached an understanding.
"I...I apologise m-ma'am." Gabriel straightened his posture for the apology. She responded with a low grunt.
"Mr. Brown, retrieve the others. Tell Mr. Johnson to send out a distress call." Gabriel looked at the older man at his side. He gave a look questioning if this decision was a good idea. Truthfully, Gabriel was uncertain, but he had already forgone the ability to second guess. "Are you waiting for permission to leave?"
Brown grinned. "Aye sir." Then swiped the woman's rifle and hobbled back into the snow. Gabriel looked down at the woman.
"I cannot save the life of my countrymen if you intend to continue fighting us. I have no intent of causing any further harm to your person or property, if you are willing to assist us, I would be willing to provide financial compensation for the endeavour." Gabriel considered if he should qualify himself as a prince to entice the offer. Ultimately he decided to keep the Stuarts out of the Entente. A rural hunter might not be aware of an exiled dynasty ruling from a world away involved in the politics of a hostile nation. Her Majesty had already warned him against using the family name in this corner of Europa. "Can you help me save a life?"
She contemplated for a second before she nodded in agreement. Gabriel extended his hand to help their new hostess onto her feet and observed her features in the available light. She had the appearance of the typical Scandinavian woman, fairly tall, blonde hair, pretty blue eyes, and fair skin. Although it was apparent age and hunger had taken its toll on her appearance – evidently; the mountainside, had not been bountiful in food. Gabriel suspected she could be a similar age as James but carried herself as someone much more experienced with the world.
"What are you doing here boy?" She crouched at the fireplace to place a large iron pot above the flames.
"I am afraid that is classified, ma'am." Gabriel avoided looking at her.
The woman looked through him. She turned back to her fire to add additional fuel. "My husband would say something similar when he wrote from the front. I thought I could leave that headache behind but even out here I cannot escape the army's lying." Gabriel wanted to point out that he was from the Air Force but decided against it. The woman continued her embittered remarks. "Tell me or not, it hardly matters. I know there is a war happening outside. I prayed it would finish before it found its way out here." The woman stood up and approached Gabriel. She was not physically intimidating but managed to stress her question. "Tell me, boy. How did you manage to find me out here?"
Gabriel managed to smile a little bit. "You could say we were lead here ma'am."
30/11/1924 / Ottawa, Dominion of Aquilonia / Official Royal Residence Rideau Hall / 20:00
"This is the Aquilonain Broadcasting Corporation with the top-of-the-hour news report."
The evening radio burst to life after the music sequence came to its natural conclusion.
"Conflict has erupted between civil groups in the province of Quebec regarding conscription. This morning, both Frankish nationals and Sovereignists marched throughout Greater Montreal and Quebec City in the preliminary steps to the planned march on the nation's capital. A counter-protest led primarily by the Women's White Feather Organisation marched against the display. It is presently unclear who initiated the violence or the number of police arrests. No deaths have been reported by the chief of police or premier of Quebec.
The simultaneous solidarity march organised by Union Leaders and the Laurier Liberal Party has since cancelled their activities in other provinces. Public opinion of conscription and the continued mobilisation has remained mostly positive despite the Commonwealth being in a state of peace. The governor general has released a statement reassuring the nation that the foreign visitations of the royal family and both the Aquilonain and Albion prime ministers will not threaten the security of the country.
In parliament, the Moose Party has reached an agreement with Albion's Jacobite Party on election for the exiles of…
The sounds began to wane to the lone inhabitant of the room. Maria Ketchener bowed her head to begin a prayer for this day of suffering. "In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen." The discomfort brought from kneeling on a wooden floor at her age never distracted her from obedience to prayer.
The nation, the Commonwealth, and the world at large were in the grip of sin. To ask the Father for mercy towards His children who were astray was necessary each time the newscaster spoke. She listened for the particular section, she had to. Her charge was tucked in for his bedtime, his mother out of the city on business, his father and family away in war-torn Europa. It was only the regular staff and an ageing governess to guard the family home; a responsibility she would achieve through prayer. Although she never desired for the word of God to be limited to Rideau Hall. The wonders of God lay within the hearts of every man from their worthy deeds and virtues; like the tiniest of mustard seeds, it held the power to grow into a mighty tree or beautiful orchid, like a star, it would provide unquenchable light even in the darkest of nights.
While circumstances could make a man's mind cruel, a single prayer made from the heart would set them free.
A sizable portion of her prayers were dedicated to the young man and woman who occupied much of her life. In her heart she knew both would be in good health – they had each other. Her Gabriel once wrote letters of their adventures in the Air Force as frequently as one would breathe. Letters always fitted with the piety and love she knew her old charge was capable of. With the Commonwealth's capture of the Dardanelles, the mail slowed to a monthly endeavour. Now, her correspondence was only outgoing. She had become reliant on internally declassified documents and the public news for updates on the pair. Once the war finished with the destruction of Jerusalem the boy she had held in her arms as a sickly newborn could not pick up a pen. It was selfish of her to want more when she had been provided with enough. So long as her prince was safe and pious, she would smile and patiently wait for his return.
"In Europa," The radio started to reach the portion that she valued above all else. Maria's attention snapped back to the news. "The Germanic Empire and Francois Republic continue the stalemate along the Rhine Front. Our Commonwealth volunteers have settled in for the winter along with Imperial forces. Supreme Commander Curry has reaffirmed the integrity of the soldier's livelihood and mission. In Scandinavia, the Imperial army has reported staggering progress from their winter offensive against the Legadonia Entente Alliance. Further inquiries and journalists have been denied on orders of the Kaiser himself.
Her Majesty Annabelle V has released a statement to the ABC: "The Stuarts are committed to the promotion of peace, order, and good government within the Commonwealth and abroad. Each prince, princess, and I stand with our armies to ensure that goal can be achieved. As the states which oppose our universal virtues fall my children will be present for their defeat."
Now onto Bharat, the Dominion government has pushed to counter Akitsushima's influence into the stateless anarchy of the subcontinent. The governor general has…"
Miss Ketchener bowed her head for the prayer of thanks to the Father. It was vague, but it was what she had asked for. The Queen was willing to proclaim her kin were safe. Those children she helped lead into adulthood were too strong to be victimised by the world. Gabriel and Peggie would not be used as status pieces if their lives were in danger. The Lord had answered her prayer once again.
Her hands tightly shook with the book of Job ready on her lips. "The Lord gave, and the Lord has taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord."
01/12/1924 / Reinheimen Mountain Area, Legadonia Entente Alliance / Outside Hunting Cabin / 02:03
Tanya had to double-check the coordinates when they arrived at the designated location. From the air, this patch of forest was no different from the rest of the frozen wasteland some fools called a country. Something of value was not found until she stuck her frozen feet back into the snow. Their target shone like a lighthouse through the trees.
"Is that it?" Lieutenant Neumann remarked, "The place only looks half built."
"What else could it be?" Lieutenant Grantz replied through deep, tired, breaths. He turned to her. "Requesting permission to communicate our arrival, Major."
Tanya permitted the request. If the lighting was better those around her might have seen the dread that could not be removed from her face. Normally, she would not be so hesitant to approach, but the Albions proved to be a trigger-happy bunch. She took immense care to avoid appearing overly cautious, lest it led to the misinterpretation of cowardice. Their contact quickly reciprocated Grantz's message and stepped out into the open to welcome the Imperials.
Tanya took a step out of their rudimentary cover towards their contact. As the battalion leader, she had to maintain the appearance of the willing leader of her gun-ho men. On top of maintaining expectations, it appeared to be a common trait that Commonwealth soldiers introduced themselves by manhandling their firearms in her presence.
"Took your sweet time gyul." A heavy voice bellowed from the man in foreign-accented Germanic. Tanya would assume it was a malformed joke if the man's rifle was not readied against her. At the academy, she had struck cadets for less serious offences. Yet now she had to stare down rowdy soldiers to not alienate her colleagues. In every other situation, one of her men would have taken down the 'combatant' in a second so this was unchartered territory for all of them. Another figure emerged from the shadows with its arms raised above its head. Their features were masked by the nighttime, but Tanya could recognise the voice belonged to her VIP's pilot.
"I see the cavalry has arrived. Did you stop for supper?" The sarcastic one quipped "Mr. Johnson. Please get rid of that thing, I don't feel like walking out of this tundra." The soldier complied and in the weapon's place, emerged a package of cigarettes. The pilot took the one offered to him with words and his gaze turned to her in an uninterested manner as he pointed to the hut. "Apologies for the sergeant, the prince said to be cautious no matter who showed up. However many people you brought along, if they can all fit inside get them in."
Tanya signalled for her men to emerge from the foliage. Crunching footsteps came through the snow to her position. "Where is your commanding officer?"
The mage she did not recognise offered her company his fags, none to be taken by the Imperials. The pilot answered the question with his hands rubbing together for warmth. "Gabe is inside, go keep him busy."
"I believe you meant to say that "His Highness is inside, Major Degurechaff"." Tanya did not particularly care for the pilot's casual approach to communication. It was an insult – hence a threat – to her authority as an officer and that was her best line of self-preservation after the computation orb.
"I suppose you are right, ma'am." The pilot held out the fag for the mage to light it with a small spell. Tanya could commend the talent in the efficiency even when she disapproved of the activity and the men using it. At least her mission was dependent on the regal Lieutenant rather than the gaggle of lacklustre delinquents he embedded himself with. When they were back on the aircraft carrier she would need to question his choice of companions.
With her mages in tow, Tanya led them to the place that would liberate them from the wind chill. She heard faint chuckles between the two smoking Albions as she stepped inside. To counteract the likelihood of two sarcastic Albions being insufficient lookouts, she ordered Grantz to stand on guard.
"Grantz, go remind our allies we're in enemy territory and help them keep a lookout. Not everyone would be kind enough to approach as obviously as we were forced to." He seemed hesitant yet relented without causing a fuss. Grantz made a hushed request of Visha, but the details were lost to Tanya since she already let herself inside the shack.
The temperature was barely any better inside the shelter even with a lit fire illuminating the space. It was a small relief to get her metal and leather boots out of the snow for a moment even when the cold continued to nibble at her skin.
"Lieutenant Stuart." She announced herself to what amounted to a pitiable excuse for a camp. The structure was barely the size of the apartment she lived in during her time at the war college. By comparison, her former orphanage was easily a more suitable living space by virtue of having a stable roof. The rickety furniture was pushed against the equally unstable walls; so weak it appeared that several blankets were tarped over a large hole in the far side of the structure. The only worthy feature of the building was the modest stone fireplace being attended to by an unknown civilian. Unusually, the Aquilonian girl was huddled with her legs pulled against her chest in the nearest corner oblivious to their presence.
Her VIP crouched by the bed with what could either be a corpse or a man soon to become one. It disgusted Tanya to know the shades of pale for the dead and dying, just one of many skills learned from the Rhine front. Serebryakov and Neumann immediately rushed to the patient with the trauma bag to attend to the damned. The two nationalities exchanged basic words regarding the patient and then dissected the contents of the medical bag.
Tanya stood in place for a second while the world seemed to move around her. While she did not believe her ego to be as impactful as Being X's lackey would argue, she desired more recognition than what was initially provided. Her compensation for risking her life and sacrificing a decent slumber was the royal being in her debt. The regular salute and modest thanks would work towards ingratiating herself as a reliable individual too valuable to be wasted in combat. The commendation of a foreign national was nearly equal to one from her direct superiors; it was no different than a corporate reference for an application back in Japan. The further possibility of another recommendation from the Albion queen or the emperor's darling daughter exponentially multiplied Stuart's life to her. She had to guide the remainder of the mission for the dual purpose of her image and returning to the safety of the fleet.
"What's the situation?" Tanya stepped further into the building; the question directed at the Lieutenant who remained crouched next to the bed. Gabriel answered her in a low voice.
"Mr. Moley has an unidentified amount of shrapnel lodged in his lower intestine when the aeroplane crashed."
Lieutenant Neumann added his interpretation. "This doesn't look good ma'am." He bit onto his gloves to remove them in an expedient manner.
Tanya muttered to herself. "It would have been better to leave him in the rubble." Private thoughts aside, her main concern did not reside with the inevitable casualty statistic, yet it did incite a new thought within her mind. The Albion unit supposedly had a system to avoid these fatal injuries, it had been her displeasure to hear the stories espoused of the rescues conducted by the mage upon their pilots.
"What happened at the plane crash? I thought you had an exercise to prevent this from happening." Gabriel gave her no reply. The civilian settled herself beside him and their combined attention returned to proving what must surely be futile medical aid.
Tanya scowled even though no one was willing to pay her mind to notice. She could press the issue but decided against further antagonising her peers. If they were content to act without her then she would resign herself to be an observer. If they made any mistakes in her absence she could have the impartial duty to record it in the post-action report. If she went back outside she would be subjected to the snow and sarcastic Albions, then her options were to find a corner to stand in or try to pry some information on the situation from the girl in the corner. Tanya was slightly dishevelled that she could only tower above someone when they were sitting upon the ground.
"Now isn't the time for a nap Second Lieutenant, why aren't you out on guard?" There was no acknowledgement of Tanya. The rhythmic rocking persisted despite the presence of a superior officer. Tanya was not about to allow herself to be insulted twice. She forced the boot into the Aquilonian's shin, still eliciting no reaction. "Stand at attention when I'm talking to you!"
"Major!" Gabriel pried himself away from the operation, visibly provoked to anger. The room seemed to wait for what would happen; if a fight could ensue or an apology would emerge. The boy's temper quickly settled while he kept his authority on the matter. "Please leave her alone." Tanya on her part nodded, dropping the matter along with the Lieutenant. They understood each other with each returning to the previous activity.
After a moment of frantic spells, Lieutenant Serebryakov moved to the idle Aquilonian girl with a handful of bandages. "Vooren wants you to know he is right outside. I don't think you would want him to see all of these cuts and burns." The girl did not acknowledge the information. Visha tried I guess the swastika's good luck worked?" Visha tried to lighten the mood. An effort rewarded with no comments and awkward acknowledgement by their allies.
"The plane caught on fire." The Aquilonian spoke in her native tongue to what had not been formally asked of her. Tanya met her gaze when the girl looked up and repeated the sentence.
"You're safe now," Serebryakov replied in soothing Albion "Gabriel and I won't let anything happen to you." placed her hands around the girl in an attempt to create a comforting hug. There seemed to be no effect on the girl locked in her trance. Only capable of a muttered answer.
"I lost my bag when the plane caught on fire."
Visha attempted to delicately pry for clarification only to receive no answer. The use of the word "fire" initiated a violent shiver in the mage.
The Pierre girl remained locked in her back-and-forth rocking trance. Tanya had few doubts about the girl's lacklustre capabilities; this person was a rival for the prince's attention and resources after all. Regardless, it was not pleasant to witness. The Salaryman saw the aged black-and-white footage that captured a fraction of the raw pain. She had witnessed men on the Rhine breakdown in seconds. In a way it reinvigorated her hatred of religion and Being X. Why would someone who loved another let them suffer to such an extent? She was thankful her resolve was of such strength that she was immune to the distractions of trauma, that she spared herself the worst of the war by inventing the 203rd as her personal shield. All to her credit: not an imaginary deity.
The door blew open with Gabriel's pilot attempting to inject an exaggerated enthusiasm that had been absent before its unnecessary injection. "All right people!" The pilot bellowed to the cabin, "We have the equipment so let's put it to use. Wash your hands and get over here. Mr. Moley wouldn't want his insides to get on that lovely oil and gunpowder you've collected tonight."
"Lieutenant Stuart, a word if you would be so kind." Tanya spoke loudly as the cabin gathered around the injured man. The boy slowly pulled himself away from the huddling mass around the bed, following her back outside into the cold and relative privacy of the outdoors. To gain the desired privacy she ordered Lieutenant Grantz to assist with the surgery; to which he darted inside, likely under the false impression it would be a warmer environment. Tanya spoke once she could be certain she and the Lieutenant were out of earshot. "How have you faired?"
Lieutenant Stuart leaned against a tree, willing to reveal his mild exhaustion. "I will manage. I do not have the right to complain when we consider the injured present with us." He removed his helmet to wipe his brow. "How are you, Major? I thank the Lord you are unharmed."
Tanya bit her tongue. If Being X was so good why was a man dying mere meters away? She recounted the success of the raid. Covertly providing a diluted rendition of Major Hanover's contributions so the inland push did not outshine her work. The boy still had powerful backing even when lost on the mountainside. Gabriel listened intently, patiently waiting to raise a new point once the story finished.
"I see you found a new weapon." Gabriel pointed at the weapon in question. Tanya took the hefty submachinegun off her back to show it to the Lieutenant.
"An early Christmas gift an enemy mage held onto for me." Tanya chuffed. She offered it and the Lieutenant held it, testing the weight and sight while he leaned. "I nice piece wouldn't you say?"
"I can see why you took a fondness for it. I recall seeing this utilised by the guards at the Vatican. We should hope the gift giver was not a thief, or you might need to return this to His Holiness." Gabriel made himself chuckle, Tanya decided to let him enjoy the strange brand of unfunny humour. He paused as he handed the gun back to her, he pointed to a new detail she missed in the acquisition. "A.S. What do you think that could be?"
There along the wooden furnish in the front end of the gun, were the carved letters in the Scandinavian's unorthodox alphabet. She might have been able to spot it if she looked through the foresight a few more times. However, the true object of note was the absence of marks that linked it back to the Church. Leave it to the stick-in-the-mud Lieutenant to consider taking away her Christmas present.
"It must be a manufacturing mark. It looks too well carved to be a personal insignia."
"Perhaps you should have inquired before the enemy gave you the gift." He said it so formally Tanya was uncertain if it was a joke or serious advice. Regardless, she had other matters to address rather than her armament.
"What happened here? How did you manage to get four of your men out in this wasteland?" Tanya looked back into the Lieutenant's eyes; those little black orbs shrunk the longer he spoke.
"I ordered my portion of the 27th to move inland to provide assistance to yourself at the fortress, where we quickly encountered enemy aircraft. Outside of our present circumstances, I would argue that the men performed quite well, with no casualties, and minimal damage to my biplane. At a point Lieutenant Pierre took a hit…she found herself isolated and took a hit to the fuel tank." He looked down at his metal boots lost in the snow, his shoulders buckled, and he sank lower down the tree. "I did not need a formula or radio transmission to tell the aircraft went alight. The wretched thing had a trail of fire the length of a runway. I ordered Mr. Brown to follow along with a select portion of the aeroplanes to shadow us. He informed me at a point that due to our aircraft's condition, we would need to turn back for fuel or land among the trees. I presume it is obvious which option I chose. I ordered the Wing to return to the aircraft carrier lest we endanger more lives. As you can tell, the sergeant from Trinidad decided to disobey the direct order."
"Why couldn't she evacuate herself? Why not grab the pilot and then float to a safer position? She could have avoided drifting several kilometres inland to avoid the mess we are in." While she presented the facts formally and superficially impartial, the look. If an officer cadet or one of her mages gave her the same look they would be forced to exercise until they dropped dead – then run another kilometre.
"Peggie dislikes the abundance of fire." Tanya could tell from the look and tone of the officer that was the absolute most he was going to provide. In the future, she would need to address the inherent flaw in keeping ill-trained employees. For now, she would walk back her approach to make the boy less defensive. Nothing would be accomplished if he refused to look at her.
"You appear to have done the best under the circumstances. I'm not sure it is what I would have done but I won't fault you for that." A voice in the back of Tanya's head reminded her to be polite. "I would like to thank you for attempting to help regardless of the outcome." Her efforts breed results. Once that girl was no longer the subject the Lieutenant lightened his tone.
"Quid pro quo, as they say. You have my word the next time I intend to be of assistance I will accomplish the feats of arrival. Ideally in one piece." Tanya breathed a laugh, mentally working on how to shift the conversation to the relevant subject that dragged her into the forest. She predicted the main difficulty would come from His Highness himself.
"I have orders to escort you to the coast for extraction. If your equipment is functioning we can all leave after providing medical assistance."
Lieutenant Stuart pushed himself off the vegetation, abruptly serious in his posture. "I am afraid I cannot agree to those terms. Mr. Moley is in no condition to be carried out. We would kill him if we took him off the stretcher."
Tanya anticipated the resistance. She would have to play to her strengths of the innate logic afflicting the situation. "I understand your commitments, Lieutenant. We must consider the survival of all parties, which includes those capable of flight."
"I apologise, ma'am, but I will not consent." Gabriel's answer lacked hesitation.
Tanya attempted to hide her frustration. How successful she was could only be judged by her conversation partner. "I have my orders, Lieutenant Stuart. While I sympathise with your position I do not appreciate you making my mission difficult."
He shook his head, unaware or disregarding her shift in attitude. "I lost two men in Dacia. I will not allow anyone else to die. I cannot face the Lord as a…murderer of innocent men." The Lieutenant knelt at Tanya's level. "I will not leave my men behind. We need surgery to remove the shrapnel that is in the process of killing Mr. Moley. After which we can leave."
It was less of a plan and more vying for a miracle to materialise. The closest hospital was floating out on the sea. At least there would be trained doctors; not soldiers that butchered human bodies as a replacement for waged labour.
"In his condition, it would be better to risk it with an airlift. Magical formulas can only do so much for a man in such a critical condition."
"I refuse to take that risk ma'am. I understand your eagerness and I apologise for making your position difficult."
The plan will be to pray. We will head inland to find a suitable location; a cave perhaps." The Lieutenant took off his helmet, unable to maintain eye contact any further. His rifle stabbed into the snow to hold it for its owner "I will not demand you to endanger yourself Major; I will take the fault in your place. I only ask that you take Peggie with you if you decide to go."
Tanya grimaced behind what was hopefully a solid soldierly expression. What option did she have? To retreat without the mission's objective would at best display an alleged inability to complete simplistic tasks. After a night of destroying coastal guns and concrete bunkers, she would not be stumped by an order to pick up a ball and walk it over to an unguarded goal. Did Gabriel intend for this? To create this absurd guilt trip to corner her into aligning with his motives at risk to her career? If she believed the boy had it in him she might consider it - she might even be impressed by the verbal manoeuvring. Tanya resisted the urge to clobber her cargo and put on her best professional smile.
"I couldn't abandon you Albions without Imperial protection. I want to spare you from the embarrassment of being eaten by the local wildlife."
The Lieutenant made his unusual grin, stood back up and retrieved his rifle. "Thank you, ma'am." Tanya begrudgingly nodded. This better be worth it, no Qing tea or chess games as compensation she grumbled to herself, hiding her annoyance before asking her charge about something that had been scratching at the back of her mind.
"Lieutenant Stuart, one more question." Tanya had a final issue to resolve while she had the luxury of a private word. "How did you manage to locate this place?"
"You might laugh at this." The Lieutenant smiled slightly. He was joyous which made Tanya start to worry more than she currently was.
"When our group was reunited, Mr. Johnson observed a wild fox observing us from the distance. I had never seen a red one in the winter months." The boy beamed. "I shall confess it was an unorthodox decision to allow an animal to act as a guide. I had a weird sensation that it was the best decision; perhaps it was our only one."
Tanya's heart sank into her stomach. Gabriel turned to the hut with a ramble about intervention from He who shall not be named. An idiotic notion that unfortunately made sense to her and her alone. As a perpetual victim of higher powers, their involvement was the last element she wanted.
"Curse you Being X." Tanya muttered to herself under her breath.
Then the alleged divine laughed. On cue, Tanya's ears were assaulted by a faint whistle of the same cursed Japanese fue. She stumbled and fell into the snowy padding the ground. Gabriel turned around panicked, his assistance was needed for the moment seeing as Being X had somehow removed the strength from her legs – a cruel and childish tactic.
Tanya created an inoffensive lie about losing her footing for a moment. She tried but was unable to create an additional excuse for their new enemy. Informing the others about the musician was out of the question. If she stayed put it would doubtlessly encroach on their position and risk revealing its existence to those who must never know of her quarrel. That meant she would have to go out again and assault the enemy in an entrenched position for the second time that night. A cry of pain emerged from inside the hut in a rare lucky break. The Lieutenant's care for the man would prevent him from following her or contesting her departure. She just had to hope her Imperials could care for themselves while their commander diverted to the newest objective.
"Go inside and tend to your man. I want to survey the area in case the enemy intends to ambush us." It was a survivable lie, one that the Lieutenant could not rebut if she had not sprinted into the woods; ever closer to the melody that only pretended to achieve perfection.
Tanya had told that beast that if it approached her again it would lose its unconventional life. A wide smile grew at the prospect of furthering her war against Being X. She allocated a wave of mana through her computation orb and into her flight gear, eager to pounce into the sky for the hunt.
As an Imperial officer and devout atheist, her credibility as a commander was jeopardised if she could not fulfil her promise to kill that wretched fox.
A/N:
This took a long while to be published, didn't it? I want to express how sorry I am that the wait was this exacerbated. I wish I could say I had an ironclad excuse but regrettably experienced several setbacks of varying difficulty. I dislike the expression of a "perfect storm," but that seems to be a fitting qualifier. The next two paragraphs will be a short exclamation if you are interested in the insight. The short version is that I was regularly busy and when I did write I was in writer's block or making the best use of the opportunity to work on other projects. The longer version is as follows:
It has been an abnormally busy year (2023) so creative writing had to be continuously pushed to the side. There was a rough period of four months where I exclusively bounced between work, familial responsibilities, and my education with barely an hour to catch my breath. When a free day did emerge I usually (and I hope understandably) spent it detaching myself from the world in its entirety. Afterwards, work persisted being increasingly demanding more while providing less on top of being cheated out of a promotion. That along with private matters regarding my place in the faith (which isn't ideal when including religious themes) kept making writing a less frequent activity.
This chapter was originally half of a much longer work. The beta readers advised it to be split into two. While I agree this is for the best version of the chapter, I am frustrated since most encounters with writer's block were in what is now the next chapter. Not all, the current closing section was a particularly unique problem to sort out. It might feel off since the planned ending will conclude the next chapter along with the focus on Scandinavia.
The Tanya sections were particularly fun (if frustrating) to put out. I can't pretend I got them correct on the first draft, but I believe Tanya being grumpy is amusing to me. She knows why the mission is assigned but would rather do literally anything else. Like a pouting house pet being dragged to the vet. Her closing conversation with Garbeil is admittedly not my best work. it feels similar to a checklist of topics that need to be touched upon, simultaneously, it is the better version of
The addition/introduction scene of Miss Ketchener was a late addition, yet it oddly fits in; largely because her intentions for Gabriel and Peggie are the opposite of what is occurring at the same time. A point one of the beta readers found endlessly hilarious. It also gave us a glimpse of what politics are like in a familiar but different setting. No matter the world or story, Quebec tensions will exist within the Canadian nation. I personally find world-building and settings more interesting than characters so writing little hints of the Commonwealth's Homefront is a treat for me. Naturally, one cannot (and should not) exist without the other; I believe at this stage I have erected a healthy balance that lets the story progress (in theory with my scarce uploads).
Looking back at the work, I believe I should have done a better job introducing Peggie's aversion to fire. I initially thought her actions to cover up Gabriel's murder in Dacia would suffice but I now question that decision. I would maintain that she would prioritise protecting Gabriel over her fears (as the same goes for Gabriel) so the scene would exist but she should have struggled more with the thought. Ideally, that scene will be...corrected in the near future to better align. In the style of Stalin changing the past to then pretend it was like that all along.
A fun fact: the Reinheimen mountain range is an actual location in Norway. It did not have the name during the period POC is taking place which is bothering me more than it should. However, even I can understand when my scruples are unwarranted.
In terms of positive news, I finally have some. During the break, I was not idle. An upside is the next few chapters and large swabs of the story have been formatted, and written and await editing. I will discuss the events after they are published however I am pleased to say that I am satisfied with them. chapter twenty-four in particular has been a favourite of mine for a while and I am pleased with how it looks on paper. I look forward to getting back into the routine of regularly updating this story.
Unrelated to writing but modestly interesting: over the hiatus I got the chance to ride in a Type 82 Kübelwagen and Ford GPW. They were surprisingly smooth for cars pushing eighty years old, although I remain convinced the German driver was either mildly intoxicated or trying to frighten me (mostly successful).
In other news, I have created a Twitter/X account where I will be posting writing updates (and photos of my cats). While I cannot promise another hiatus will never happen again I will have the ability to communicate efficiently. If you are interested please follow me at [ VickersVimy1919], if not, no hard feelings. I will be adding it to the end of chapters from this point on as it is the best place for immediate information on this story, but to clarify my messages remain open to everyone.
Thank you to all who have stuck around and read this far. I cannot express how much I appreciate the commitment and patience on your part.
Thank you for reading. God be with you all.